l^tMiMt  NIAl;  DITTIES' 
•AND -THE -VAMPIRE 

|L        •  KIPLING 


ONlVERSJTr  Oi: 

SAN  oieoo 


"w 


presented  to  the 

MBRAKY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 

FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


MR.    JOHN  C.  ROSE 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/departmentaldittOOI<ipliala 


Departmental  Ditties 
Xhe  Vampire,  Etc. 


SAN  DtEQO 


List  of  Volumes  in  the 
Pomegranate  Series 


By  Rudyard  Kipling 

The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King 

The  Courting  of  Dinah  Shadd 

The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft 

Without  Benefit  of  Clergy 

The  Incarnation  of  Krishna  Mulvanev 

Barrack-room  Ballads  and  Recessional 

Departmental  Ditties  and  the  Vampire 


The  Rubaivat  of  Omar  Khayyam 

Fourth  Fittgtrald  Tratalation 


Quatrains  of  Omar  Khayyam 

By  yuttin  HunlUy  McCarthy 


Departmental  Ditties 
The  Vampire,  Etc. 


By 

Rudyard  Kipling 


Published   by    Brentano's   at 
31  Union  Square,  New  York 


Contents 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES : 

PAGE 

Prelude  

3 

General  Summary  .... 

5 

Army  Headquarters 

7 

Study  of  an  Elevation,  in  Indian 

Ink 

10 

A   Legend    of   the    Foreign    Of- 

fice        

12 

The  Story  of  Uriah 

16 

The  Post  that  Fitted   . 

18 

Public  "Waste          .... 

21 

Delilah 

25 

What  Happened      .... 

29 

Pink  Dominoes         .... 

34 

The  Man  who  Could  Write 

37 

Municipal 

41 

A  Code  of  Morals 

45 

The  Last  Department    . 

49 

OTHER  VERSES  : 

"  As  the  Bell  Clinks  " 

55 

An  Old  Song   

59 

Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 

63 

Contents 


The     Grave    op     the     Hundred 

Head 

69 

The  Moon  of  Other  Days     , 

74 

The  Overland  Mail 

76 

What  the  People  Said 

79 

The  Undertaker's  Horse 

82 

The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie 

85 

Arithmetic  on  the  Frontier 

88 

The  Betrothed 

90 

Griffen's  Debt 

96 

In  Springtime 

101 

Two  Months    .... 

103 

The  Galley-Slave   . 

106 

L'Envoi 

111 

The    Conundrum    of    the    Work 

SHOPS        

112 

The  Explanation     . 

116 

The  Gift  of  the  Ska     . 

118 

The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

123 

The  Last  Suttee    . 

132 

The   Ballad  of  the  "Clampher- 

DOWN  " 

139 

The  Vampire 

144 

Our  Lady  of  the  Snows 

147 

vi 

DEPAETMENTAL  DITTIES 


I  HAVE  eaten  your  bread  and  salt, 
I  have  drunk  your  water  and  wine, 

The  deaths  ye  died  I  have  watched  beside, 
And  the  lives  that  ye  led  were  mine. 

Was  there  av^ht  that  I  did  not  share 

In  vigil  or  toil  or  ease — 
One  joy  or  woe  that  I  did  not  know. 

Dear  hearts  across  the  seas  f 

I  have  written  the  tale  of  our  life 
For  a  sheltered  people's  mirth. 

In  jesting  guise — but  ye  are  tcise, 
And  ye  know  what  the  jest  is  woi^th. 


General  Summary 

We  are  very  slightly  changed 
From  the  semi-apes  who  ranged 

India's  prehistoric  clay  ; 
Whoso  drew  the  longest  bow 
Ran  his  brother  down,  you  know, 

As  we  run  men  down  to-day. 

"Dowb,"  the  first  of  all  his  race, 
Met  the  mammoth  face  to  face 

On  the  lake  or  in  the  cave  ; 
Stole  the  steadiest  canoe, 
Ate  the  quarry  others  slew. 

Died — and  took  the  finest  grave. 

When  they  scratched  the  reindeer-bone, 
Some  one  made  the  sketch  his  own — 

Filched  it  from  the  artist — then, 
Even  in  those  early  days. 
Won  a  simple  Viceroy's  praise 

Through  the  toil  of  other  men. 
5 


General  Summary 

Ere  they  hewed  the  Sphinx's  visage, 
Favoritism  governed  kissage, 
Even  as  it  does  in  this  age. 

Who  shall  doubt  the  secret  hid 
Under  Cheops'  pyramid 
Was  that  the  contractor  did 

Cheops  out  of  several  millions  ? 
Or  that  Joseph's  sudden  rise 
To  Comptroller  of  Supplies 
Was  a  fraud  of  monstrous  size 

On  King  Pharaoh's  swart  civilians 

Thus,  the  artless  songs  I  sing 
Do  not  deal  with  anything 

New  or  never  said  before. 
As  it  was  iu  the  beginning, 
Is  to-day  official  sinning, 

And  shall  be  for  evermore. 


Army  Headquarters 

Old  is  the  song  that  I  sing — 

Old  as  my  unpaid  bills — 
Old  as  the  chicken  that  kitmutgars  bring 

Men  at  dak-bungalows — old  as  the  Hills. 

Ahasuerus    Jenkins,    of    the    "Operatic 

Own," 
Was  dowered  with  a  tenor  voice  of  super- 

Santley  tone. 
His  views  on  equitation   were,   perhaps,  a 

ti'ifle  queer  ; 
He  had  no  seat  worth  mentioning,  but  oh  ! 

he  had  an  ear. 

He  clubbed  his  wretched  company  a  dozen 

times  a  day  ; 
He  used  to  quit  his  charger  in  a  parabolic 

way  ; 
His  method  of  saluting  was  the  joy  of  all 

beholders  ; — 
But  Ahasuerus  Jenkins  had  a  head  upon 

his  shoulders. 

7 


Army  Headquarters 

He  took  two  months  to  Simla  when  the 

year  was  at  the  spring, 
And  underneath  the  deodars  eternally  did 

sing. 
He  warbled  like  a  bulbul,  but  particularly  at 
Cornelia  Agrippina,  who  was  musical  and 

fat. 

She  controlled  a  humble  husband,  who,  in 
turn,  controlled  a  Dept. , 

Where  Cornelia  Agrippina's  human  sing- 
ing-birds were  kept 

From  April  to  October  on  a  plump  retaining 
fee. 

Supplied,  of  course,  per  mensem,  by  the 
Indian  Treasury. 

Cornelia  used  to  sing  with  him,  and  Jenkins 
used  to  play  ; 

He  praised  unblushingly  her  notes,  for  he 
was  as  false  as  they. 

So  when  the  winds  of  April  turned  the  bud- 
ding roses  brown, 

Cornelia   told  her  husband  :    "Tom,   you 
mustn't  send  him  down." 
8 


Army  Headquarters 

They  haled  him  from  his  regiment,  which 

didn't  much  regret  him  ; 
They  found  for  him  an  office-stool,  and  on 

that  stool  they  set  him, 
To  play  with  maps  and  catalogues  three 

idle  hours  a  day. 
And  draw  his  plump  retaining  fee — which 

means  his  double  pay. 

Now,  ever  after  dinner,  when  the  coflPee- 
cups  are  brought, 

Ahasuerus  waileth  o'er  the  grand  piano- 
forte ; 

And  thanks  to  fair  Cornelia,  his  fame  hath 
waxen  great, 

And  Ahasuerus  Jenkins  is  a  power  in  the 
State. 


Study  of  an  Elevation,  in  Indian 
Ink 

This  ditty  is  a  string  of  lies. 

But — how  the  deuce  did  Gubbins  rise? 

POTIPHAR  GUBBINS,  C.E., 

Stands  at  the  top  of  tlie  tree ; 
And  I  muse  in  my  bed  on  the  reasons  that 
led 
To  the  hoisting  of  Potiphar  G. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.E., 
Is  seven  years  junior  to  Me : 
Each  bridge   that  he  makes  either  buckles 
or  breaks, 
And  his  work  is  as  rough  as  he. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.E., 
Is  coarse  as  a  chimpanzee ; 
And  I  can't  understand  why  you  gave  him 
your  hand, 
Lovely  Mehitabel  Lee. 
10 


study  of  an  Elevation,  in  Indian  Ink 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.E., 
Is  dear  to  the  Powers  that  Be ; 
For  Tbey  bow  and  They  smile  in  an  affable 
style 
Which  is  seldom  accorded  to  Me. 

Potiphar  Gubbins,  C.  E. , 
Is  as  certain  as  certain  can  be 
Of  a  highly  paid  post  which  is  claimed  by  a 
host 
Of  seniors — including  Me. 

Careless  and  lazy  is  he — 
Greatly  inferior  to  Me. 
What  is  the  spell  that  you  manage  so  well, 
Commonplace  Potiphar  G.  ? 

Lovely  Mehitabel  Lee, 
Let  me  inquire  of  thee — 
Should  I  have  riz  to  where  Potiphar  is, 
Hadst  thou  been  mated  to  Me  ? 


11 


A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office 

This  is  the  reason  why  Ruxtum  Beg, 

Rajah  of  Kolazai, 
Drinketh  the  "  simpkin  "  and  brandy  peg, 

Maketh  the  money  to  fly, 
Vexeth  a  Government  tender  and  kind, 
Also — hut  this  is  a  detail — blind. 

RusTUM  Beg,  of  Kolazai — 

Sliglitly  backward  native  State, — 
Lusted  for  a  C.S.I. — 

So  began  to  sanitate. 
Build  a  Jail  and  Hospital — 

Nearly  built  a  City  drain — 
Till  his  faithful  subjects  all 

Thought  their  ruler  was  insane. 

Strange  departures  made  he  then — 
Yea,  Departments  stranger  still. 

Half  a  dozen  Englishmen 
Helped  the  Rajah  with  a  will — 
12 


A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office 

Talked  of  noble  aims  and  high, 

Hinted  at  a  future  fine 
For  the  State  of  Kolazai, 

On  a  strictly  Western  line. 


Rajah  Rustum  held  his  peace; 

Lowered  octroi  dues  a  half; 
Organized  a  State  Police ; 

Purified  the  Civil  Staff; 
Settled  cess  and  tax  afresh 

In  a  very  liberal  way ; 
Cut  temptations  of  the  flesh — 

Also  cut  the  Bukhshi's  pay ; 


Roused  his  Secretariat 

To  a  fine  Mahratta  fury. 
By  a  Hookum  hinting  at 

Supervision  of  dasturi  ; 
Turned  the  State  of  Kolazai 

Very  nearly  upside-down ; 
When  the  end  of  May  was  nigh, 

Waited  his  achievement  crown. 
13 


A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office 

Then  the  Birthday  Honors  came. 

Sad  to  state  and  sad  to  see, 
Stood  against  the  Rajah's  name 

Nothing  more  than  CLE. ! 


Things  were  lively  for  a  week 

In  the  State  of  Kolazai. 
Even  now  the  people  speak 

Of  that  time  regretfully — 

How  he  disendowed  the  Jail — 

Stopped  at  once  the  City  di*ain ; 
Turned  to  beauty  fair  and  frail — 

Got  his  senses  back  again; 
Doubled  taxes,  cesses,  all ; 

Cleared  away  each  new-built  thana  ; 
Turned  the  two-lakh  Hospital 

Into  a  superb  Zenana  ; 

Heaped  upon  the  Bukhshi  Sahib 
Wealth  and  honors  manifold ; 

Clad  himself  in  Eastern  garb  ; 
Squeezed  his  people  as  of  old. 
14 


A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office 

Happy,  happy  Kolazai ! 

Never  more  will  Rustum  Beg 
Play  to  catch  the  Viceroy's  eye. 

He  prefers  the  "  simpkin  "  peg-. 


15 


The  Story  of  Uriah 

"  Now  there  were  two  men  in  one  city  ; 
the  one  rich,  and  the  other  poor.'''' 

Jack  Barrett  -went  to  Quetta  because  they 

told  him  to. 
He  left  his  wife  at  Simla  on  three-fourths 

his  monthly  screw : 
Jack  Barrett  died  at  Quetta  ere  the  next 

month's  pay  he  drew. 

Jack  Barrett  went  to  Quetta.     He  didn't 

understand 
The  reason  of  his  transfer  from  the  pleasant 

mountain  land: 
The  season  was  September,  and  it  killed 

him  out  of  hand. 

Jack  Barrett  went   to  Quetta,   and   there 
gave  up  the  ghost, 
16 


The  Story  of  Uriah 

Attempting  two  men's  duty  in  that  very 

healthy  post ; 
And  Mrs.   Barrett  mourned  for  him  five 

lively  months  at  most. 

Jack  Barrett's  bones  at  Quetta  enjoy  pro- 
found repose ; 

But  I  shouldn't  be  astonished  if  now  his 
spirit  knows 

The  reason  of  his  transfer  from  the  Hima- 
layan snows. 

And  when  the  Last  Great  Bugle  Call  adown 

the  Hurnai  throbs, 
When  the  last  grim  joke  is  entered  in  the 

big  black  Book  of  Jobs, 
And  Quetta  graveyards  give   again    their 

victims  to  the  air, 
I  shouldn't  like  to  be  the  naan  who  sent 

Jack  Barrett  there. 


17 


The  Post  that  Fitted 

27io'  tangled  and  twisted  the  course  of  true  love, 

This  ditty  explains 
No  tangle's  so  tangled  it  can  not  improve 

Jf  the  Lover  has  brains. 

Ere  the  steamer  bore  him  Eastward,  Sleary 

was  engaged  to  marry 
An  attractive  girl  at  Tunbridge,  whom  he 

called  "My  little  Carrie." 
Sleary's  pay  was  very  modest;  Sleary  was 

the  other  way. 
Who  can  cook  a  two-plate  dinner  on  eight 

paltry  dibs  a  day  ? 

Long  he  pondered  o'er  the  question  in  his 

scantly  furnished  quarters — 
Then  proposed  to  Minnie  Boffkin,  eldest  of 

Judge  Boffkin 's  daughters. 
Certainly  an  impecunious    subaltern  was 

not  a  catch, 
But  the  BofPkins  knew  that  Minnie  mightn't 

make  another  match. 
18 


The  Post  that  Fitted 

So  they  recognized  the  business,   and,   to 

feed  and  clothe  the  bride, 
Got    him   made    a    Something    Something 

somewhere  on  the  Bombay  side. 
Anyhow,  the  billet  carried  pay  enough  for 

him  to  marry — 
As  the  artless  Sleary  put    it,     "Just    the 

thing  for  me  and  Carrie." 


Did  he,  therefore,  jilt  Miss  BoffMn — im- 
pulse of  a  baser  mind  ? 

No  I  He  started  epileptic  fits  of  an  appall- 
ing kind. 

(Of  his  modus  operandi  only  this  much  I 
could  gather: 

"Pears'  shaving  sticks  will  give  you  little 
taste  and  lots  of  lather.") 


Frequently  in  public  places  his  affliction 

used  to  smite 
Sleary  with  distressing   vigor — always    in 

the  Boffldns'  sight. 

19 


The  Post  that  Fitted 

Ere  a  week  was  over  Minnie  weepingly  re- 
turned his  ring, 

Told  him  his  "  unhappy  weakness"  stopped 
all  thought  of  marrying. 

Sleary  bore  the  information  with  a  chas- 
tened holy  joy — 

Epileptic  fits  don't  matter  in  political 
employ — 

Wired  three  short  words  to  Carrie — took 
his  ticket,  packed  his  kit, — 

Bade  farewell  to  Minnie  Boffkin  in  one  last, 
long,  lingering  fit. 

Four  weeks  later,  Carrie  Sleary  read — and 

laughed  until  she  wept — 
Mrs.     Boffkin's     warning    letter    on    the 

"wretched  epilept." 
Year  by  year,  in  pious  patience,  vengeful 

Mrs.  BofFkin  sits 
Waiting  for  the  Sleary  babies  to  develop 

Sleary's  fits. 


Public  Waste 

Walpole  talks  of  '^  a  man  and  his  price." 
List  to  a  ditty  queer — 

The  sale  of  a  Deputy-Acting-  Vice- 
Resident- Engineer, 

Bought  like  a  bullock,  hoof  and  hide. 

By  the  Little  Tin  Gods  on  the  Mountain  Side. 

By  the  Laws  of    the    Family  Circle,  'tis 
■written  in  letters  of  brass 
That  only  a  Colonel  from  Chatham  can 
manage  the  Railways  of  State, 
Because  of  the  gold  on  his  breeks,  and  the 
subjects  wherein  he  must  pass — 
Because  in  all  matters  that  deal  not  with 
Railways  his  knowledge  is  great. 

Now,    Exeter  Battleby   Tring  had  labored 
from,  boyhood  to  eld 
On  the  Lines  of  the  East  and  the  West, 
and  eke  of  the  North  and  the  South  ; 
21 


Public  Waste 

Many  lines  had  lie  built  and  surveyed — im- 
portant the  posts  which  he  held  ; 
And  the  Lords  of  the  Iron  Horse  were 
dumb  when  he  opened  his  mouth  ! 

Black  as  the  raven  his  garb,  and  his  heresies 
jettier  still — 
Hinting  that  Railways  required  lifetimes 
of  study  and  knowledge  ; 
Never  clanked  sword  by  his  side — Vauban 
he  knew  not,  nor  drill — 
Nor  was  his  name  on  the  list  of  the  men 
who  had  passed  through  the  ' '  Col- 
lege." 

Wherefore  the  Little  Tin  Gods  harried  their 
little  tin  souls, 
Seeing  he  came  not  from  Chatham,  jin- 
gled no  spurs  at  his  heels, 
Knowing  that,  nevertheless,  Avas  he  first  on 
the  Government  rolls 
For  the  billet  of  "Railway  Instructor  to 
Little  Tin  Gods  on  Wheels." 
22 


Public  Waste 

Letters  not  seldom  they  wrote  him,  "Hav- 
ing the  honor  to  state," 
It  would  be  better  for  all  men  if  he  were 
laid  on  the  shelf  : 
Much  would  accrue  to  his  bank-book,  and 
he  consented  to  wait 
Until  the  Little  Tin  Gods  built  him  a 
berth  for  himself. 


"Special,  well  paid,  and  exempt  from  the 
Law  of  the  Fifty  and  Five, 
Even  to  Ninety  and  Nine," — these  were 
the  terms  of  the  pact  : 
Thus  did  the  Little  Tin  Gods  (long-  may 
Their  Highnesses  thrive  ! ) 
Silence  his  mouth  with  rujjees,   keeping 
their  Circle  intact ; 


Appointing  a  Colonel  from  Chatham,  who 
managed  the  Bhamo  State  Line, 
(The  which  was  one  mile  and  one  furlong 
— a  guaranteed  twenty-inch  gauge). 
23 


Public  Waste 

So  Exeter  Battleby    Tring    consented    his 
claims  to  resign, 
And  died  on  four  thousand  a  month  in 
the  ninetieth  year  of  his  age. 


84 


Delilah 

We  haw  anotJier  Vice^-oy  now  ;  those  days  are  dead  and 

done 
Of  Delilah  Aberyswith  and  depraved  Ulysses  Gunne. 

Delilah  Aberyswith  was  a  lady — not  too 
young— 

With  a  perfect  taste  in  dresses,  and  a  badly 
bitted  tongue, 

With  a  thirst  for  information,  and  a  greater 
thirst  for  praise. 

And  a  little  house  in  Simla,  in  the  Prehis- 
toric Days. 

By  reason  of  her  marriage  to  a  gentleman  in 

power, 
Delilah  was  acquainted  with  the  gossip  of 

the  hour  ; 
And  many  little  secrets,  of  a  half-ofl&cial 

kind, 
Were  whispered  to  Delilah,  and  she  bore 

them  all  in  mind. 
25 


Delilah 

She  patronized  extensively  a  man — Ulysses 
Gunne — 

Whose  mode  of  earning  money  was  a  low 
and  shameful  one. 

He  wrote  for  divers  papers,  which,  as  every- 
body knows. 

Is  worse  than  serving  in  a  shop  or  scaring 
off  the  crows. 


He   praised  her    "queenly  beauty"  first; 

and,  later  on,  he  hinted 
At  the   "vastness  of  her  intellect,"    with 

compliments  unstinted. 
He  went  with  her  a-riding,  and  his  love  for 

her  was  such 
That  he  lent  her  all  his  horses,  and — she 

galled  them  very  much. 


One  day.  They  brewed  a  secret  of  a  fine 

financial  sort ; 
It  related  to  Appointments,  to  a  Man  and 

a  Report. 

26 


Delilah 

'Twas  almost  worth  the  keeping  (only- 
seven  people  knew  it), 

And  Gunne  rose  up  to  seek  the  truth  and 
patiently  ensue  it. 


It  was  a  Viceroy's  Secret,  but — perhaps  the 

wine  was  red — 
Perhaps  an  Aged  Councillor  had  lost  his 

aged  head — 
Perhaps  Delilah's  eyes  were  bright,  Delilah's 

whispers  sweet — 
The  Aged  Member  told  her  what  't  were 

treason  to  repeat. 


Ulysses  went  a-riding,  and  they  talked  of 

love  and  flowers  ; 
Ulysses  went  a-calling,  and  he  called  for 

several  hours ; 
Ulysses  went  a- waltzing,  and  Delilah  helped 

him  dance  : 
Ulysses  let  the  waltzes  go,  and  waited  for 

his  chance, 

27 


Delilah 

The  summer  sun  was  setting,  and  the  sum- 
mer air  was  still — 

The  couple  went  a- walking  in  the  shade  of 
Summer  Hill  ; 

The  wasteful  sunset  faded  out  in  turlds- 
green  and  gold — 

Ulysses  pleaded  softly,  and — that  bad  De- 
lUah  told  ! 

Next  mom,  a  startled  Empire  learnt  the  all- 
important  news  ; 

Next  week,  the  Aged  Councillor  was  shak- 
ing in  his  shoes  ; 

Next  month,  I  met  Delilah,  and  she  did  not 
show  the  least 

Hesitation  in  affirming  that  Ulysses  was  a 
"beast." 


We  have  another  Viceroy  now — those  days 

are  dead  and  done 
Of   Delilah    Aberyswith   and    most   mean 

Ulysses  Gunne  ! 
28 


What  Happened 

HuRPEE   Chunder   Mookerjee,    pride   of 

Bow  Bazar, 
Owner  of  a  native  press,    "  Barrishter-at- 

Lar," 
Waited  on  the  Government  with  a  claim  to 

wear 
Sabres  by  the  bucketful,  rifles  by  the  pair. 


Then   the    Indian   Government  winked  a 

wicked  wink — 
Said  to  Chunder  Mookerjee,  * '  Stick  to  pen 

and  ink ; 
They   are   safer  implements;   but,   if  you 

insist. 
We  will  let  you  carry  arms  wheresoe'er 

you  list." 

29 


What  Happened 

Hurpee  Chunder  Mookerjee  sought  the  gun- 
smith and 

Bought  the  tuber  of  Lancaster,  Ballard, 
Dean,  and  Bland, 

Bought  a  shiny  bowie-knife,  bought  a  town- 
made  sword, 

Jingled  like  a  carriage-horse  when  he  went 
abroad. 

But  the  Indian  Government,  always  keen 

to  please, 
Also  gave  permission   to  horrid  men  like 

these — 
Yar  Mahommed  Yusufzai,  down  to  kill  or 

steal, 
Chimbu  Singh  from  Bikaneer,  Tantia  the 

Bhil, 

Killar  Khan  the  Marri  chief,  Jowar  Singh 

the  Sikh, 
Nubbee  Baksh   Punjabi    Jat,   Abdul    Huq 

Rafiq— 
He  was  a  Wahabi ;  last,  little  Boh  Hla-oo 
Took  advantage  of  the  act — took  a  Snider 

too. 

30 


What  Happened 

They    were    unenlightened    men,    Ballard 

knew  them  not; 
They    procured    their     swords     and     guns 

chiefly  on  the  spot ; 
And  the  lore  of  centuries,  plus  a  hundred 

fights, 
Made  them  slow  to  disregard  one  another's 

rights. 

With  a  unanimity  dear  to  patriot  hearts 
All  those  hairy  gentlemen  out  of  foreign 

parts 
Said,  "The  good  old  days  are  back — let  us 

go  to  war !  " 
Swaggered  down  the  Grand   Trunk  Road, 

into  Bow  Bazar. 

Nubhee  Baksh  Punjabi  Jat  found  a  hide- 
bound flail ; 

Chimbu  Singh    from    Bikaneer    oiled    his 
Tonk  jezail ; 

Yar  Mahommed  Yusufzai  spat  and  grinned 
with  glee 

As    he   ground    the    butcher-knife   of    the 
Khyberee. 

31 


What  Happened 

Jowar  Singh  the  Sikh  procured  sabre,  quoit, 

and  mace  ; 
Abdul  Huq,  Wahabi,  took  the  dagger  from 

its  place ; 
While  amid  the  jungle-grass  danced  and 

grinned  and  jabbered 
Little  Boh  Hla-oo  and  cleared  the  dah-blade 

from  the  scabbard. 

What  became  of  Mookerjee  ?   Soothly,  who 

can  say  ? 
Yar  Mahommed  only  grins  in  a  nasty  way, 
Jowar  Singh  is  reticent,  Chimbu  Singh  is 

mute; 
But  the  belts  of  them  all  simply  bulge  with 

loot. 

What  became  of  Ballard's  guns  ?    Afghans 
black  and  grubby 

Sell  them  for  their  silver  weight  to  the  men 
of  Pubbi; 

And  the  shiny  bowie-knife  and  the  town- 
made  sword  are 

Hanging  in  a  Marri  camp  just  across  the 
Border. 

32 


What  Happened 

What   became    of   Mookerjee?     Ask    Ma- 

hommed  Yar 
Prodding  Siva's  sacred  bull  down  the  Bow 

Bazar. 
Speak  to  placid   Nubbee    Baksh — question 

land  and  sea — 
Ask  the  Indian  Congress-men — only  don't 

ask  me  ! 


33 


Pink  Dominoes 

"  They  arefodU  who  kiss  and  tell,^^  wisely  hat  tJie  poet 

sung. 
Man  may  hdd  all  sorts  of  posts  if  Tie^ll  only  hold  his 

tongue. 

Jenky  and  Me  were  engaged,  you  see, 

On  the  eve  of  the  Fancy  Ball ; 
So  a  kiss  or  two  was  nothing  to  you 

Or  any  one  else  at  all. 

Jenny  would  go  in  a  domino — 

Pretty  and  pink  but  warm ; 
While  I  attended,  clad  in  a  splendid 

Austrian  uniform. 

Now,  we  had  arranged,  through  notes  ex- 
changed 
Early  that  afternoon. 
At  Number  Four  to  waltz  no  more, 
But  to  sit  in  the  dusk  and  spoon. 
34 


Pirik  Dominoes 

(I  -wish  you  to  see  that  Jenny  and  Me 
Had  barely  exchanged  our  troth ; 

So  a  kiss  or  two  was  strictly  due 
By,  from,  and  between  us  both.) 

When  Three  was  over,  an  eager  lover, 

I  fled  to  the  gloom  outside ; 
And  a  Domino  came  out  also 

Whom  I  took  for  my  future  bride. 

That  is  to  say,  in  a  casual  way, 

I  slipped  my  arm  around  her ; 
With  a  kiss  or  two   (which  is  nothing  to 
you). 

And  ready  to  kiss  I  found  her. 

She  turned  her  head,  and  the  name  she  said 

Was  certainly  not  my  own ; 
But  ere  I  could  speak,  with  a  smothered 
shriek 

She  fled  and  left  me  alone. 

Then  Jenny  came,  and  I  saw  with  shame 

She'd  doffed  her  domino ; 
And  I  had  embraced  an  alien  waist — 

But  I  did  not  tell  her  so. 
35 


Pink  Dominoes 

Next  morn  I  knew  that  there  were  two 

Dominoes  pink,  and  one 
Had  cloaked  the  spouse  of  Sir  Julian  Vouse, 

Our  big  political  gun. 

Sir  J.  was  old,  and  her  hair  was  gold, 
And  her  eye  was  a  blue  cerulean ; 

And  the  name  she  said  when  she  turned 
her  head 
Was  not  in  the  least  like  "Julian." 

Now,  wasn't  it  nice,  when  want  of  pice 

Forbade  us  twain  to  marry, 
That  old  Sir  J.,  in  the  kindest  way. 

Made  me  his  ^cretarry  f 


86 


The  Man  Who  Could  Write 

Shun — $hun  Vie  Bowl !    That  fatal,  facile  drink 
Has  ruined  many  geese  who  dipped  their  quills  in  H. 

Bribe,  murder,  marry — but  steer  clear  of  Ink, 
SavewJien  you  vyrite  receipts  for  paid-up  bills  in  H. 

There  may  be  sQver  in  the  "  blue-black,^^ — all 

I  know  of  is  the  iron  and  the  gall. 

Boanerges  Blitzen,  servant  of  the  Queen, 
Is  a  dismal  failure — is  a  Might-have-been. 
In  a  luckless  moment  he  discovered  men 
Bise  to  high  position  through  a  ready  pen. 

Boanerges  Blitzen  argued,  therefore,  "  I 
With  the  selfsame  weapon  can   attain  as 

high." 
Only  he  did  not  possess,  when  he  made  the 

trial, 

Wicked  wit  of  C-lv-n,  irony  of  L 1. 

37 


The  Man  Who  Could  Write 

(Men  who  spar  with  Government  need,  to 

back  their  blows, 
Something  more  than  ordinary  journalistic 

prose.) 


Never  young  Civilian's  prospects  were  so 

bright 
Till  an  Indian  paper  found  that  he  could 

write  : 
Never  young  Civilian's  prospects  were  so 

dark. 
When  the  wretched  Blitzen  wrote  to  make 

his  mark. 


Certainly  he  scored  it,  bold  and  black  and 

firm, 
In   that    Indian    paper — made    his   seniors 

squirm, 
Quoted  oflBce  scandals,  wrote  the  tactless 

truth — 
Was  there  ever  known  a  more  misguided         i 

youth  ? 

38 


The  Man  Who  Could  Write 

When  the  Rag  he  wrote  for  praised  his 

plucky  game, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  felt  that  this  was  Fame  : 
When  the  men  he  wrote  of   shook  their 

heads  and  swore, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  only  wrote  the  more. 

Posed  as  Young  Ithuriel,  resolute  and  grim. 
Till  he   found  promotion   didn't    come    to 

him — 
Till  he  found  that  reprimands  weekly  were 

his  lot, 
And  his  many  Districts  curiously  hot. 

Till  he  found  his  furlough  strangely  hard  to 

win, 
Boanerges  Blitzen  didn't  care  a  pin  : 
Then  it  seemed  to  dawn  on  him  something 

wasn't  right — 
Boanerges  Blitzen  put  it  down  to  "spite." 

Languished  in  a  District  desolate  and  dry  ; 
Watched  the  Local  Government  yearly  pass 
him  by  , 

39 


The  Man  Who  Could  Write 

Wondered  where  the  hitch  was  ;  called  it 
most  unfair. 


That  was  seven  years  ago — and  he  still  is 
there. 


40 


Municipal 


"  Why  is  my  District  death-rate  low?  " 

Said  Binks  of  Hezabad. 
"  Wells,  drains,  and  sewage-outfalls  are 

My  oton  peculiar  fad. 
I  learnt  a  lesson  once.    It  ran 
Thus,'^  quoth  that  most  veracious  man : 

It  was  an  August  evening,  and,  in  snowy 
garments  clad, 

I  paid  a  round  of  visits  in  the  lines  of  Heza- 
bad ; 

When,  presently,  my  Waler  saw,  and  did 
not  like  at  all, 

A  Commissariat  elephant  careering  down 
the  Mall. 

I  couldn't  see  the  driver,  and  across  my 
mind  it  rushed 

That  that  Commissariat  elephant  had  sud- 
denly gone  muath. 
41 


Municipal 

I  didn't  care  to  meet  him,  and  I  couldn't 

well  get  down, 
So  I  let  the  Waler  have  it,  and  we  headed 

for  the  town. 


The  buggy  was  a  new  one,  and,  praise 
Dykes,  it  stood  the  strain, 

Till  the  Waler  jumped  a  bullock  just  above 
the  City  Drain  ; 

And  the  next  that  I  remember  was  a  hur- 
ricane of  squeals, 

And  the  creature  making  toothpicks  of  my 
five-foot  patent  wheels. 


He  seemed  to  want  the  owner — so  I  fled, 

distraught  with  fear. 
To  the  Main  Drain  sewage-outfall,  while  he 

snorted  in  my  ear — 
Reached    the  four-foot   drain-head    safely, 

and,  in  darkness  and  despair, 
Felt   the  brute's    proboscis    fingering    my 

terror-stiffened  hair. 
42 


Municipal 

Heard  it  trumpet  on  my  shoulder — tried  to 

crawl  a  little  higher — 
Found     the     Main      Drain     sewage-outfall 

blocked,    some    eight    feet    up,    with 

mire  ; 
And  for  twenty  reeking  minutes,  Sir,  my 

very  marrow  froze. 
While  the  trunk  was  feeling  blindly  for  a 

purchase  on  my  toes  ! 

It  missed  me  by  a  fraction,  but  my  hair  was 

turning  gray 
Before    they    called    the    drivers    vip    and 

dragged  the  brute  away. 
Then  I  sought  the  City  Elders,   and  my 

words  were  very  plain. 
They  flushed  that  four-foot  drain-head,  and 

— it  never  choked  again. 


You  may  hold  with  surface  drainage  and 

the  sun-for-garbage  cure 
Till  you've    been  a  periwinkle    shrinking 

coyly  up  a  sewer. 
43 


Municipal 

I  believe  in  well-flushed  culverts.     .     .    . 

This  is  why  the  death-rate's  small. 
And  if  you  don't  believe  me,  get  shikarred 
yourself. 

That's  all. 


44 


A  Code  of  Morals 

Lest  you  sJiovld  think  this  story  true, 

I  merely  mention  I 
Evolved  it  lately.     ^Tis  a  most 

Unmitigated — misstatement. 

Now,  Jones  had  left  his  new-wed  bride  to 

keep  his  house  in  order, 
And  hied  away  to  Hurrum  Hills,  above  the 

Afghan  border. 
To  sit  on  a  rock  with  a  heliograph  ;  but  ere 

he  left  he  taught 
TTis  wife  the  working  of  the  Code  that  sets 

the  miles  at  naught. 

And  Love  had    made  him  very  sage,    as 
Nature  made  her  fair  ; 

So  Cupid   and  Apollo   linked,  per   helio- 
graph, the  pair. 
45 


A  Code  of  Morals 

At  dawn,  across  the  Hurrum  Hills,  he 
flashed  her  counsel  wise — 

At  e'en,  the  dying  sunset  bore  her  hus- 
band's homilies. 


He  warned  her  'gainst  seductive  youths  in 
scarlet  clad  and  gold, 

As  much  as  'gainst  the  blandishments  pa- 
ternal of  the  old  ; 

But  kept  his  gravest  warnings  for  (hereby 
the  ditty  hangs) 

That  snowy-haired  Lothario,  Lieutenant- 
(Jeneral  Bangs. 


'Twas  Greneral  Bangs,  with  Aide  and  Staff, 
that  tittupped  on  the  way. 

When  they  beheld  a    heliograph  tempes- 
tuously at  play  ; 

They  thought    of   Border  risings,   and  of 
stations  sacked  and  burnt — 

So  stopped  to  take  the  message  down — and 
this  is  what  they  learnt : — 
46 


A  Code  of  Morals 

"  Dash  dot  dot,  dot,  dot  dash,  dot  dash  dot " 

twice.     The  General  swore. 
"Was  ever  General  Officer  addressed    as 

'  Dear '  before  ? 
'My    Love,'i'    faith!      'My    Duck,'     Gad- 

zooks  !     '  My  darling  popsy-wop  ! ' 
Spirit  of   great  Lord  Wolseley,  who  is  on 

that  mountain  top  ? " 


The  artless  Aide-de-camp  was  mute  ;    the 

gilded  StaflP  were  still, 
As,  dumb  with  pent-up  mirth,  they  booked 

that  message  from  the  hill  ; 
For,  clear  as  summer's  lightning  flare,  the 

husband's  warning  ran  : — 
"  Don't  dance  or  ride  with  General  Bangs — 

a  most  immoral  man. " 


(At  dawn,   across    the    Hurrum  Hills,   he 

flashed  her  counsel  wise — 
But  howsoever  Love  be  blind,  the  world  at 

large  hath  eyes.) 
47 


A  Code  of  Morals 

Witli  damnatory  dot  and  dash  he  helio- 

graphed  his  wife 
Some  interesting  details  of   the  General's 

private  life. 

The  artless  Aide-de-camp  was  mute  ;   the 

shining  Staff  were  still, 
And  red  and  ever  redder  grew  the  General's 

shaven  gill. 
And  this  is  what  he  said  at  last  (his  feelings 

matter  not)  : 
"I  think  we've  tapped  a  private  line.     Hi  ! 

Threes  about  there  !    Trot  I " 

All  honor  unto  Bangs,  for  ne'er  did  Jones 

thereafter  know 
By  word  or  act  official  who  read  off  that 

helio,  ; 
But  the  tale  is  on  the  Frontier,  and  from 

Michni  to  MooUaw 
They  know  the  worthy  General  as  "that 

most  immoral  man." 


48 


The  Last  Department 

Twelve  hundred  million  men  are  spread 
About  this  Earth,  and  land  You 

Wonder,  when  You  and  I  are  dead, 
WTiat  will  those  luckless  millions  do? 

"None  whole  or  clean,"  we  cry,  "or  free 

from  stain 
Of  favor. "    Wait  a  while,  till  we  attain 
The  Last  Department,  where  nor  fraud 

nor  fools, 
Nor  grade  nor  greed,  shall  trouble  us  again. 

Fear,  Favor,  or  AfPection — what  are  these 
To  the  grim  Head  who  claims  our  services  ? 

I  never  knew  a  wife  or  interest  yet 
Delay  that  pukka  step  miscalled  ' '  decease  " ; 

When  leave  long  overdue  none  can  deny ; 

When  idleness  of  all  Eternity 

Becomes  our  furlough,  and  the  mari- 
gold 

Our  thriftless,  bullion-minting  Treasury. 
4  49 


The  Last  Department 

Transferred  to  the  Eternal  Settlement, 
Each  in  his  strait,  wood-scan  tied  office  pent, 
No    longer    Brown    reverses    Smith's 
appeals, 
Or  Jones  records  his  Minute  of  Dissent. 

And  One,  long  since  a  pillar  of  the  Court, 
As    mud    between    the   beams    thereof    is 

wrought ; 
And  One  who  wrote  on  phosphates  for 

the  crops 
Is  subject-matter  of  liis  own  Report. 

(These  be  the  glorious   ends  whereto  we 

pass — 
Let  Him  who  Is  go  call  on  Him  who  Was ; 
And  He  shall  see  the  mallie  steals  the 

slab 
For  currie-grinder,  and  for  goats  the  grass.) 

A  breath  of  wind,  a  Border  bullet's  flight, 
A  draught  of  water,  or  a  horse's  fright — 

The  droning  of  the  fat  Sheristadar 
Ceases,    the  punkah  stops,    and    falls    the 
night 

60 


The  Last  Department 

For  You  or  Me.     Do  those  who  live  decline 
The  step  that  offers,  or  their  work  resign  ? 

Trust  me,  To-Day's  Most  Indispensables, 
Five  hundred  men  can  take  your  place  or 
mine. 


61 


OTHER  VERSES 


S3 


"As  the  Bell  Clinks" 

As  I  left  the  Halls  at  Lumley, 

Rose  the  vision  of  a  comely 

Maid  last  season  worshipped  dumbly, 

Watched  with  fervor  from  afar; 
And  I  wondered,  idly,  blindly, 
If  the  maid  would  greet  me  kindly. 
That  was  all — the  rest  was  settled 

By  the  clinking  tonga-bar. 
Yea,  my  life  and  hers  were  coupled 

By  the  tonga  coupling-bar. 

For  my  misty  meditation, 

At  the  second  changing-station, 

Suffered  sudden  dislocation, 

Fled  before  the  tuneless  jar 
Of  a  Wagner  obbligato, 
Scherzo,  double-hand  staccato, 
Played  on  either  pony's  saddle 

By  the  clacking  tonga-bar — 
Played  with  human  speech,  I  fancied, 

By  the  jigging,  jolting  bar. 
55 


''As  the  Bell  Clinks''' 

"She  was  sweet,"  thought  I,  "last  season; 
But  'twere  surely  wild  unreason 
Such  tiny  hope  to  freeze  on 

As  was  oflPered  hy  my  Star, 
When  she  whispered,  something  sadly, 
'  I — we  feel  your  going  badly ! ' " 
"  And  you  let  the  chance  escape  you  f  " 

Eapped  the  rattling  tonga-har. 
''What  a  chance,  and  what  an  idiot!'''' 

Clicked  the  vicious  tonga-har. 

Heart  of  man — oh,  heart  of  putty ! 

Had  I  gone  by  Kakahutti, 

On  the  old  Hill-road  and  rutty, 

I  had  'scaped  that  fatal  car. 
But  his  fortune  each  must  bide  by — 
So  I  watched  the  milestones  slide  by, 
To  "  You  call  on  Her  to-morrow!" — 

Fugue  with  cymbals  by  the  bar ; 
' '  You  must  call  on  Her  to-morroiv ! " — 

Post-horn  gallop  by  the  bar. 

Yet  a  further  stage  my  goal  on — 
We  were  whirling  down  to  Solon, 
With  a  double  lurch  and  roll  on, 
56 


"As  the  Bell  Clinks'' 

Best  foot  foremost,  ganz  unci  gar — 
"  She  was  very  sweet,"  I  hinted. 
"  If  a  kiss  had  been  imprinted —  ? " 
''''^  Would  hd'  saved  a  world  of  trouble ! " 

Clashed  the  busy  tonga-bar. 
"  'Been  accepted  or  rejected  ! " 

Banged  and  clanged  the  tonga-bar. 

Then  a  notion  wild  and  daring, 
'Spite  the  income  tax's  paring, 
And  a  hasty  thought  of  sharing — 

Less  than  many  incomes  are. 
Made  me  put  a  question  private, 
You  can  guess  what  I  would  drive  at. 
"  You  must  work  the  sum  to  prove  it,'' 

Clanked  the  careless  tonga-bar. 
"  Simple  Rule  of  Two  will  prove  it," 

Lilted  back  the  tonga-bar. 


It  was  under  Khyraghaut  I 
Mused :  ' '  Suppose  the  maid  be  haughty- 
(There  are  lovers  rich — and  forty) — 
Wait  some  wealthy  Avatar  ? 
57 


''As  the  Bell  Clinks'' 

Answer,  monitor  untiring, 

'Twixt  the  ponies  twain  perspiring ! " 

''Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,'''' 

Creaked  the  straining  tonga-bar. 
' '  Can  I  tell  you  ere  you  ask  Her  ?  " 

Pounded  slow  the  tonga-bar. 

Last,  the  Tara  Devi  turning. 
Showed  the  lights  of  Simla  burning, 
Lit  my  little  lazy  yearning 

To  a  fiercer  flame  by  far. 
As  below  the  Mall  we  jingled, 
Through  my  very  heart  it  tingled — 
Did  the  iterated  order 

Of  the  threshing  tonga-bar — 
"  Try  your  luck — you  can't  do  better!''^ 

Twanged  the  loosened  tonga-bar. 


An  Old  Song 

So  long  as  'neath  the  Kalka  Hills  the  tong-a- 

horn  shall  ring, 
So  long  as  down  the  Solon  dip  the  hard-held 

ponies  swing, 
So  long  as  Tara  Devi  sees  the  lights  o'  Simla 

town, 
So  long  as  Pleasure  calls  us  up,  and  Duty 

drives  us  down, 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
What  pair  so  happy  as  ice  tivo  f 


So  long  as  Aces  take  the  King,  or  backers 
take  the  bet. 

So  long  as  debt  leads  men  to  wed,  and  mar- 
riage leads  to  debt, 
59 


An  Old  Song 

So  long  as  little  luncheons,  Love,  and  scandal 

hold  their  vogue. 
While  there  is  sport  at  Annandale  or  whis- 
key at  Jutogh, 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
What  knife  can  cut  our  love  in  two  f 


So  long  as  down  the  rocking  floor  the  raving 
polka  spins, 

So  long  as  Kitchen  Lancers  spur  the  mad- 
dened violins. 

So  long  as  through  the  whirling  smoke  we 
hear  the  oft-told  tale, — 

"  Twelve  hundred  in  the  Lotteries,"   and 
Whatshername  for  sale, 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
We'll  play  the  game,  and  win  it  too. 


So  long  as  Lust  or  Lucre  tempt  straight 

riders  from  the  course, 
So  long  as  with  each  drink  we  pour  black 

brewage  of  Remorse, 
60 


An  Old  Song 

So  long  as  those  unloaded  guns  we  keep 

beside  the  bed 
Blow  off,  by  obvious  accident,  the  lucky 
owner's  head. 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
WJiat  can  Life  kill  or  Death  undo  ?■ 


So  long  as  Death  'twixt  dance  and  dance 

chills  best  and  bravest  blood, 
And  drops  the  reckless  rider  down  the  rotten, 

rain-soaked  khud, 
So  long  as  rumors   from   the  North  make 

loving  wives  afraid, 
So  long  as  Burma  takes  the  boy  and  typhoid 

kills  the  maid. 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
What  knife  can  cut  our  love  in  two  ? 


By  all  that  lights  our  daily  life  or  works  our 

lifelong  woe. 
From  Boileaugunge  to  Simla  Downs  and 

those  grim  glades  below, 
61 


An  Old  Song 

Where,   heedless  of   the  flying   hoof  and 

clamor  overhead, 
Sleep,  with  the  gray  langur  for  guard,  our 
very  scornful  Dead, 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
All  Earth  is  servant  to  we  two. 


By  Docket,  Billet-doux,  and  File,  by  Moun- 
tain, Cliff,  and  Fir, 

By  Fan  and  Sword  and  OjB&ce-box,  by  Corset, 
Plume,  and  Spur, 

By  Riot,  Revel,  Waltz,  and  War,  by  Wo- 
men, Work,  and  Bills, 

By  all  the  life  that  fizzes  in  the  everlasting 
Hills, 
If  you  love  me  as  I  love  you, 
What  pair  so  happy  as  we  two  f 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 

I 

If  it  be  pleasant  to  look  on,  stalled  in  the 

packed  serai, 
Does  not  the  Young  Man  try  Its  temper  and 

pace  ere  he  buy  ? 
If  She  be  pleasant  to  look  on,  what  does  the 

Young  Man  say  ? 
■'Lo!  She  is  pleasant  to  look  on — give  Her 

to  me  to-day ! " 

II 
Yea,  though  a  Kafir  die,  to  him  is  remitted 

Jehannum 
If  he  borrowed  in  life  from  a  native  at  sixty 

per  cent,  per  annum. 

Ill 

Blister  we  not  for  bursati  f    So,  when  the 

heart  is  vext. 
The  pain  of  one  maiden's  refusal  is  drowned 

in  the  pain  of  the  next 
63 


Certain  Maxima  of  Hafiz 

IV 

The  temper  of  chums,  the  love  of  your  wife, 

and  a  new  piano's  tune — 
Which  of  the  three  will  you  trust  at  the  end 

of  an  Indian  June  ? 

V 

Who  are  the  rulers  of  Ind — to  whom  shall 

we  bow  the  knee  ? 
Make  your  peace  with  the  women,  and  men 

will  make  you  L.  G. 

VI 

Does  the  woodpecker  flit  round  the  young 
ferash  ?  Does  grass  clothe  a  new- 
built  wall  ? 

Is  she  under  thirty,  the  woman  who  holds 
a  boy  in  her  thrall  ? 

VII 
If  She  grow  suddenly  gracious — reflect.     Is 

it  all  for  thee  ? 
The  black-buck  is  stalked  through  the  bul- 
lock, and  Man  through  jealousy. 
64 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 

VIII 

Seek  not  for  favor  of  women.     So  shall  you 

find  it  indeed. 
Does  not  the  boar  break  cover  just  when 

you're  lighting  a  weed  ? 

IX 

If  He  play,  being  young  and  unskilful,  for 

shekels  of  silver  and  gold, 
Take   His   money,  my  son,  praising  Allali. 

The  kid  was  ordained  to  be  sold. 

X 

With  a  "weed  "  among  men  or  horses,  verily 

this  is  the  best — 
That  you  work  him   in   office   or  dog-cart 

lightly — but  give  him  no  rest. 

XI 

Pleasant  the  snaffle  of  Courtship,  improving 

the  manners  and  carriage. 
But  the  colt  who  is  wise  will  abstain  from 

the  terrible  thorn-bit  of  Marriage. 

5  65 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 

XII 

As  the  thriftless  gold  of  the  babul,  so  is  the 

gold  that  we  spend 
On  a  Derby  Sweep,  or  our  neighbor's  wife, 

or  the  horse  that  we  buy  from  a  friend. 

XIII 

The  ways  of  man  with  a  naaid  be  strange, 

yet  simple  and  tame 
To  the  ways  of  a  man  with  a  horse,  when 

selling  or  racing  that  same. 


XIV 

In  public  Her  face  turneth  to  thee,  and 

pleasant  Her  smile  when  ye  meet. 
It  is  ill.     The  cold  rocks  of  El-Gidar  smile 

thus  on  the  waves  at  their  feet. 
In  public  Her  face  is  averted  ;  with  anger 

She  nameth  thy  name. 
It  is  well.     Was  there  ever  a  loser  content 

with  the  loss  of  the  game  ? 
66 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 

XV 

If  She  have  spoken  a  word,  remember  thy 

lips  are  sealed  ; 
And  the  Brand  of  the  Dog  is  upon  liim  by 

whom  is  the  secret  revealed. 
If  She  have  written  a  letter,  delay  not  an 

instant,  but  burn  it. 
Tear  it  in  pieces,  O  Fool,  and  the  wind  to 

Her  mate  shall  return  it  1 
If  there  be  trouble  to  Herward,  and  a  lie  of 

the  blackest  can  clear. 
Lie,  while  thy  lips  can  move  or  a  man  is 

alive  to  hear. 


XVI 

My  son,  if  a  maiden  deny  thee,  and  scuf- 

flingly  bid  thee  give  o'er. 
Yet  lip  meets  with  lip  at  the  lastward — get 

out  !    She  has  been  there  before. 
They  are  pecked  on  the  ear  and  the  chin  and 

the  nose  who  are  lacking  in  lore. 
67 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 

XVII 

If  we  fall  in  the  race,  though  we  win,  the 
hoof -slide  is  scarred  on  the  course. 

Tliough  Allah  and  Earth  pardon  Sin,  re- 
maineth  forever  Remorse. 

XVIII 

"  By  all  I  am  misunderstood  I "  if  the  lilatron 

shall  say  ;  or  the  Maid : — 
"Alas!  I  do  not  understand,"  my  son,  be 

thou  nowise  afraid. 
In  vain  in  the  sight  of  the  Bird  is  the  net  of 

the  Fowler  displayed. 

XIX 

My  son,  if  I,  Hafiz,  thy  father,  take  hold  of 

thy  knees  in  my  pain, 
Demanding  thy  name  on  stamped  paper,  one 

day  or  one  hour — refrain. 
Are  the  links  of  thy  fetters  so  light  that  thou 

cravest  another  man's  chain  ? 


68 


The  Grave  of  the    Hundred    Head 

There'' s  a  ividoiv  in  sleepy  Chester  wlio 

loeepsfor  her  only  son  : 
lliere's  a  grave  on  the  Pabeng  Iliver — a 

grave  that  the  Burmans  shun : 
And  there's  Subadar   Prag  Teiuarri   irho 

tells  hotv  the  icork  ivas  done. 

A  Snider  squibbed  in  the  jungle,  somebody 

laughed  and  fled, 
And  the  men  of  the  Fii-st  Shikaris  picked  up 

their  Subaltern  dead, 
With  a  big  blue  mark  in  his  forehead  and 

the  back  blown  out  of  his  head. 

Subadar  Prag  Tewarri,  Jemadar  Hira  Lai, 
Took  comnaand  of  the  party — twenty  rifles 

in  all — 
Marched  them  down  to  the  river  as  the  day 

"Was  beginning  to  fall. 
69 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head 

They  buried  the  boy  by  the  river,  a  blanket 

over  his  face  ; 
They  wept  for  their  dead  Lieutenant,  the 

men  of  an  alien  race  ; 
They    made    a    samadh    in    his    honor — a 

mark  for  his  resting-place. 

For  they  swore  by  the  Holy  Water,   they 

swore  by  the  salt  they  ate, 
That  the  soul  of  Lieutenant  Eshmitt  Sahib 

should  go  to  his  Grod  in  state — 
With  fifty  file  of  Burman    to    open  him 

Heaven's  gate. 

The  men  of  the  First  Shikaris  marched  till 
tlie  break  of  day, 

Till  they  came  to  the  rebel  village,  the  vil- 
lage of  Pabengmay — 

A  jingal  covered  the  clearing,  calthrops 
hampered  the  way. 

Subadar  Prag  Tewarri,  bidding  them  load 
with  ball, 

70 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head 

Halted  a  dozen  rifles  under  the  village  wall ; 
Sent  out    a    flanking-party  with  Jemadar 
Hira  Lai. 

The  men  of  the  First  Shikaris  shouted  and 
smote  and  slew, 

Turning  the  gvimnng  jingal  onto  the  howl- 
ing crew. 

The  Jemadar's  flanking-party  butchered  the 
folk  who  flew. 

Long  was  the  morn  of  slaughter,  long  was 

the  list  of  slain  ; 
Five  score  heads  were  taken,  five  score  heads 

and  twain  ; 
And  the  men  of  the  First  Shikaris  went 

back  to  their  grave  again, — 

Each  man  bearing  a  basket  red  as  his  palms 

that  day, 
Red  as  the  blazing  village — the  village  of 

Pabengmay. 
And  the  "  drip-drip-drip  "  from  the  baskets 

reddened  the  grass  by  the  way. 
71 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head 

They  made  a  pile  of  their  trophies  high  as  a 

tall  man's  chin, 
Head  upon  head  distorted,  set  in  a  sightless 

grin, 
Anger  and  pain  and  terror  stamped  on  the 

smoke-scorched  skin. 

Subadar  Prag  Tewarri  put  the  head  of  the 

Boh 
On  top  of  the  mound  of  triumph,  the  head 

of  his  son  below. 
With  the  sword  and  the  peacock-banner, 

that    the    world  might    behold    and 

know. 

Thus  the  satnadh  was  perfect,  thus  was  the 

lesson  plain 
Of  the  wrath  of  the  First  Shikaris — the  price 

of  a  white  man  slain  ; 
And  the  men  of  the  First  Shikaris  went 

back  into  camp  again. 

Then  a  silence  came  to  the  river,  a  hush  fell 
over  the  shore, 
73 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head 

And  Bohs  that  were  brave  departed,  and 
Sniders  squibbed  no  more  ; 

For  the  Burmans  said  that  a  Icxdlah's  head 
must  be  paid  for  with  heads  fivescore. 

There's  a    widow  in  sleepy    Chester  icho 

weeps  for  her  only  son  ; 
There's  a  grave  on   the  Pabeng  River — a 

grave  that  the  Burmans  shun  ; 
And  there's  Subadar  Prag   Tetcarri  who 

tells  how  the  work  was  done. 


73 


The  Moon  of  Other  Days 

Beneath  the  deep  veranda's  shade, 

When  bats  begin  to  fly, 
I  sit  me  down  and  watch — alas  ! — 

Another  evening  die. 
Blood-red  behind  the  sere  ferash 

She  rises  through  the  haze. 
Sainted  Diana  !  can  that  be 

The  Moon  of  Other  Days  ? 

Ah !  shade  of  Little  Kitty  Smith, 

Sweet  Saint  of  Kensington ! 
Say,  was  it  ever  thus  at  Home 

The  Moon  of  August  shone, 
When  arm  in  arm  we  wandered  long 

Through  Putney's  evening  haze, 
And  Hammersmith  was  Heaven  beneath 

The  Moon  of  Other  Days  ? 
74 


The  Moon  of  Other  Days 

But  Wandle's  stream  is  Sutlej  now, 

And  Putney's  evening  haze 
The  dust  that  half  a  hundred  kine 

Before  my  window  raise. 
Unkempt,  unclean,  athwart  the  mist 

The  seething  city  looms,— 
In  place  of  Putney's  golden  gorse 

The  sickly  hahul  blooms. 

Glare  down,  old  Hecate,  through  the  dust, 

And  bid  the  pie-dog  yell  ; 
Draw  from  the  drain  its  typhoid-germ, 

From  each  bazaar  its  smell  ; 
Yea,  suck  the  fever  from  the  tank, 

And  sap  my  strength  therewith  : 
Thank  Heaven,  you  show  a  smiling  face 

To  Little  Kitty  Smith ! 


75 


The  Overland  Mail 

{Foot-Service  to  the  Hills) 

In  tlie  Name  of  the  Empress  of  India,  make 

way, 
O    Lords   of  the  Jungle,    wherever  you 

roam.! 
The  woods  are  astir  at  the  close  of  the  day — 
We  exiles   are   waiting   for  letters  from 

Home. 
Let  the  robber  retreat — let  the  tiger  turn 

tail — 
In  the  Name  of  the  Empress,  the  Overland 

Mail! 

With  a  jingle  of  bells,  as  the  dusk  gathers 
in, 
He  turns  to  the  foot-path  that  heads  up 
the  hill— 

76 


The  Overland  Mail 

The  bags  on  his  back  and  a  cloth  round  his 

chin, 
And,   tucked  in    his  waist-belt,  the  Post 

Office  bill: 
"  Despatched  on  this  date,  as  received  by  the 

rail. 
Per  runner,  two  bags  of  the  Overland  Mail." 

Is  the  torrent  in  spate  ?     He  must  ford  it  or 

swim. 
Has  the  rain  wrecked  the  road  ?    He  must 

climb  by  the  cliff. 
Does  the  tempest  cry  "  Halt"  ?     What  are 

tempests  to  him  ? 
The  Service  admits   not  a  "but"  or  an 

"if." 
While  the  breath's  in  his  mouth,  he  must 

bear  without  fail. 
In  the  Name  of  the  Empress,  the  Overland 

Mail. 

From  aloe  to  rose-oak,  from  rose-oak  to  fir. 
From  level  to  upland,  from  upland  to 
crest, 

77 


The  Overland  Mail 

From  rice-field  to  rock-ridge,   from  rock- 
ridge  to  spur, 
Fly  the  soft-sandalled   feet,   strains    the 
brawny  brown  chest. 

From  rail  to  ravine — to  the  peak  from  the 
vale — 

Up,  up  through  the  night  goes  the  Overland 
Mail. 


There's  a  speck  on  the  hillside,  a  dot  on  the 

road — 
A  jingle  of  bells  on  the  foot-path  below — 
There's    a    scuffle    above  in  the  monkey's 

abode — 
The  world  is  awake,   and  the  clouds  are 

aglow. 
For  the  great  Sun  himself  must  attend  to 

the  hail  : 
"  In  the  Name  of  the  Empress,  the  Overland 

Mail!'' 


78 


What  the  People  Said 

{June  21st,  1887) 

By  the  well  where  the  bullocks  go 

Silent  and  blind  and  slow — 

By  the  field  where  the  young  corn  dies 

In  the  face  of  the  sultry  skies, 

They  have  heard,  as  the  dull  Earth  hears 

The  voice  of  the  wind  of  an  hour, 
The  sound  of  the  Great  Queen's  voice  :■ 
"  My  God  hath  given  me  years. 

Hath  granted  dominion  and  power  ; 
And  I  bid  you,  O  Land,  rejoice ! " 

And  the  Ploughman  settles  the  share 
More  deep  in  the  grudging  clod  ; 

For  he  saith  :  "The  wheat  is  my  care, 
And  the  rest  is  the  will  of  God. 

He  sent  the  Mahratta  spear 
As  He  sendeth  the  rain, 
79 


What  the  People  Said 

And  the  Mlech,  in  the  fated  year, 

Broke  the  spear  in  twain, 
And  was  broken  in  turn.     Who  knows 

How  our  Lords  make  strife  ? 
It  is  good  that  the  young  wheat  grows — 

For  the  bread  is  Life." 


Then  far  and  near,  as  the  twilight  drew, 

Hissed  up  to  the  scornful  dark 
Great  serpents,  blazing,  of  red  and  blue. 
That  rose  and  faded,  and  rose  anew, 

That  the  Land  might  wonder  and  mark. 
"  To-day  is  a  day  of  days,"  they  said  ; 

"  Make  merry,  O  People  all  I  " 
And  the  Ploughman  listened  and  bowed  his 

head  : 
"  To-day  and  to-morrow  Grod's  will,"  he  said. 
As  he  trimmed  the  lamps  on  the  wall. 

"  He  sendeth  us  years  that  are  good, 

As  He  sendeth  the  dearth. 
He  giveth  to  each  man  his  food 

Or  Her  food  to  the  Earth. 
80 


What  the  People  Said 

Our  Kings  and  our  Queens  are  afar — 

On  their  peoples  be  peace ! — 
God  bringeth  the  rain  to  the  Bar, 

That  our  cattle  increase." 

And  the  Ploughman  settled  the  share 

More  deep  in  the  sun-dried  clod : — 
"Mogul,    Mahratta,   and  Mlech    from    the 
North, 
And  White  Queen  over  the  Seas — 
God  raiseth  them  up  and  driveth  them  forth 
As  the  dust  of  the  ploughshare  flies  in  the 
breeze ; 
But  the  wheat  and  the  cattle  are  all  my  care, 
And  the  rest  is  the  will  of  God." 
6 


81 


The  Undertaker's  Horse 

"  To-ischhi-shu  is  condemned  to  death.    Sow  can  he 
drink  tea  with  the  ExecviUmer?  " — Japaneu  Proverb. 

The  eldest  son  bestrides  him, 

And  the  pretty  daughter  rides  him, 

And  I  meet  him  oft  o'  mornings  on  the 
Course  ; 
And  there  wakens  in  my  bosom 
An  emotion  chill  and  gruesome 

As  I  canter  past  the  Undertaker's  Horse. 

Neither  shies  he  nor  is  restive, 
But  a  hideously  suggestive 
Trot,  professional  and  placid,  he  affects  ; 
And  the  cadence  of  his  hoof-beats. 
To  my  mind,  this  grim  reproof  beats  : — 
"Mend  your  pace,  my  friend, — I'm  coming. 
Who's  the  next?" 
82 


The  Undertaker's  Horse 

Ah  I  stud-bred  of  ill-omen, 

I  have  watched  the  strongest  go — men 
Of  pith  and  might    and  muscle — at  your 
heels, 

Down  the  plantain-bordered  highway, 

(Heaven  send  it  ne'er  be  my  way!) 
In  a  lacquered  box  and  jetty  upon  wheels. 

Answer,  sombre  beast  and  dreary, 
Where  is  Brown,  the  young,  the  cheery. 
Smith,  the  pride  of  all  his  friends  and  half 
the  Force  ? 
You  were  at  that  last  dread  dak 
We  must  cover  at  a  walk. 
Bring  them  back  to  me,    O  Undertaker's 
Horse ! 

With  your  mane  unhogged  and  flowing, 
And  your  curious  way  of  going, 
And  that  businesslike  black   crimping  of 
your  tail, 
E'en  with  Beauty  on  your  back.  Sir, 
Pacing  as  a  lady's  hack.  Sir, 
What  wonder  when  I  meet  you  I  turn  pale  I 
83 


The  Undertakers  Horse 

It  may  be  you  wait  your  time,  Beast, 
Till  I  write  my  last  bad  rhyme,  Beast, 

Quit  the  sunlight,  cut  the  rhyming,  drop  the 
glass, 
Follow  after  with  the  others, 
Where  some  dusky  heathen  smothers 

Us  with  marigolds,  in  lieu  of  English  grass. 

Or,  perchance,  in  years  to  follow, 

I  shall  watch  your  plump  sides  hollow. 

See  Camifex  (gone  lame)  become  a  corse, 
See  old  age  at  last  o'erpower  you, 
And  the  Station  Pack  devour  you, 

I  shall  chuckle  then,  O  Undertaker's  Horse ! 

But  to  insult,  gibe,  and  quest  I've 
Still  the  hideously  suggestive 
Trot  that  hammers  out  the  grim  and  warn- 
ing text ; 
And  I  hear  it  hard  behind  me, 
In  what  place  soe'er  I  find  me  : — 
"Sure  to  catch  you  sooner  or  later.    Who's 
the  next  ? " 

84 


The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie 

This  fell  when  dinner-time  was  done — 

'Twixt  the  first  and  the  second  rub — 
That  cor  mon  Jock  cam'  hame  again 

To  his  rooms  ahint  the  Club. 
An'  syne  he  laughed,  an'  syne  he  sang, 

An'  syne  we  thocht  him  fou, 
An'  syne  he  trumped  his  partner's  trick, 

An'  garred  his  partner  rue. 

Then  up  and  spake  an  elder  mon. 
That  held  the  Spade  its  Ace — 

"God  save   the   lad  I     Whence   comes   the 
licht 
That  wimples  on  his  face  ? " 

An'  Jock  he  sniggered,  an'  Jock  he  smiled, 
An'  ower  the  card-brim  wunk  : — 

"I'm  a'  too  fresh  fra'  the  stirrup-peg- — 
May  be  that  I  am  drunk." 
85 


The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie 

"There's  whusky  brewed  in  Galashiels, 

An'  L.  L.  L.  forbye  ; 
But  never  liquor  lit  the  low 

That  keeks  f ra'  oot  your  eye. 


"There's  a  thrid  o'  hair  on  your  dress-coat 
breast, 

Aboon  the  heart  a  wee  ? " 
" Oh!  that  is  fra'  the  lang-haired  Skye 

That  slobbers  ower  me." 
"  Oh!  lang-haired  Skyes  are  lovin'  beasts, 

An'  terrier  dogs  are  fair  ; 
But  never  yet  was  terrier  born 

Wi'  ell-lang  gowden  hair ! 

"  There's  a  smirch  o'  pouther  on  your  breast, 

Below  the  left  lapel  ? " 
' '  Oh !  that  is  fra'  my  auld  cigar, 

Whenas  the  stump-end  fell." 
"  Mon  Jock,  ye  smoke  the  Trichi  coarse, 

For  ye  are  short  o'  cash, 
An'  best  Havanas  couldna  leave 

Sae  white  an'  pure  an  ash. 
86 


The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie 

"  This  nicht  ye  stopped  a  story  braid, 

An'  stopped  it  wi'  a  curse — 
Last  nicht  ye  told  that  tale  yoursel', 

An'  capped  it  wi'  a  worse ! 
Oh !  we're  no  fou !    Oh !  we're  no  fou ! 

But  plainly  we  can  ken 
Ye're  fallin',  fallin',  fra'  the  band 

O'  cantie  single  men !  " 

An'  it  fell  when  sin'ts-shaws  were  sere, 
An'  the  nichts  were  lang  and  mirk, 

In  braw  new  breeks  wi'  a  gowden  ring, 
Oor  Jockie  gaed  to  the  Kirk. 


87 


Arithmetic  on  the  Frontier 

A  GREAT  and  glorious  thing  it  is 
To  learn,  for  seven  years  or  so, 

The  Lord  knows  what  of  that  and  this, 
Ere  reckoned  fit  to  face  the  foe — 

The  flying  bullet  down  the  Pass, 

That  whistles  clear,  "  All  flesh  is  grass." 

Three  hundred  pounds  per  annum  spent 
On  making  brain  and  body  meeter 

For  all  the  murderous  intent 

Comprised  in  "villanous  saltpetre"! 

And  after — ask  the  Yusufzaies 

What  comes  of  all  our  'ologies. 

A  scrimmage  in  a  Border  station — 
A  canter  down  some  dark  defile — 

Two  thousand  pounds  of  education 
Drops  to  a  ten-ru])ee  jezail — 

The  Crammer's  boast,  the  Squadron's  pride, 

Shot  like  a  rabbit  in  a  ride ! 

88  ■   ' 


Arithmetic  on  the  Frontier 

No  proposition  Euclid  wi'ote, 

No  formulae  the  text-books  know, 

Will  turn  the  bullet  from  your  coat, 

Or  ward  the  tulwar's  downward  blow. 

Strike  hard  who  cares,  shoot  straight  who 
can — 

The  odds  are  on  the  cheaper  man. 

One  sword-knot  stolen  from  the  camp 
Will  pay  for  all  the  school  expenses 

Of  any  Kurrum  Valley  scamp 

Who  knows  no  word    of    moods  and 
tenses ; 

But,  being  blessed  with  perfect  sight. 

Picks  off  our  messmates  left  and  right. 

With  home-bred  hordes  the  hillsides  teem. 
The  troopships  bring  us  one  by  one, 

At  vast  expense  of  time  and  steam. 
To  slay  Afridis  where  they  run. 

The  "captives  of  our  bow  and  spear " 

Are  cheap — alas !  as  we  are  dear. 


89 


The  Betrothed 

"  Tou  mtist  choose  between  me  and  your  cigar. ^^ 

Open  the  old  cigar-box,    get  me  a  Cuba 

stout — 
For    things   are  running    cross  ways,    and 

Maggie  and  I  are  out. 

We  quarrelled  about  Havanas — we  fought 

o'er  a  good  cheroot ; 
And  I  know  she  is  exacting,  and  she  says  I 

am  a  brute. 

Open  the  old  cigar-box — let  me  consider  a 

space — 
In  the  soft  blue  veil  of  the  vapor,  musing 

on  Maggie's  face. 

Maggie  is  pretty  to  look  at — Maggie's  a  lov- 
ing lass ; 

But  the  prettiest  cheeks  must  wrinkle,  the 
truest  of  loves  must  pass. 
90 


The  Betrothed 

There's  peace  in  a  Laranaga,  there's  calm  in 

a  Henry  Clay; 
But  the  best  cigar  in  an   hour  is   finished 

and  thrown  away — 

Thrown  away  for  another  as   perfect  and 

ripe  and  brown ; 
But  I  could  not  throw  away  Maggie   for 

fear  o'  the  talk  o'  the  town  ! 

Maggie,  my  wife  at  fifty — gray  and  dour 

and  old — 
With  never  another  Maggie  to  purchase  for 

love  or  gold ! 

And  the  light  of  Days  that  have  Been  the 

dark  of  the  Days  that  Are, 
And  Love's  torch  stinking  and  stale,  like 

the  butt  of  a  dead  cigar — 

The  butt  of  a  dead  cigar  you  are  bound  to 

keep  in  your  pocket — 
With  never  a  new  one  to  light,  though  it's 

charred  and  black  to  the  socket. 
91 


The  Betrothed 

Open  the  old  cigar-box — let  me  consider  a 
while — 

Here  is  a  mild  Manila — there  is  a  wifely- 
smile. 

Which  is  the  better  portion — bondage  bought 

with  a  ring, 
Or  a  harem  of  dusky  beauties,  fifty  tied  in 

a  string  ? 

Counsellors  cunning  and  silent,  comforters 

true  and  tried, 
And  never  a  one  of  the  fifty  to  sneer  at  a 

rival  bride. 

Thought  in  the  early  morning,  solace  in 

time  of  woes, 
Peace  in  the  hush  of  the  twilight,  balm  ere 

my  eyelids  close — 

This  wiff  the  fifty  give  me,  asking  naught  in 

return, 
With  only  a  Suttee's  passion — to  do  their 

duty  and  burn. 
93 


The  Betrothed 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me .    When  they  are 

spent  and  dead, 
Five  times  other  fifties  shall  be  my  servants 

instead. 

The  furrows  of  far-off  Java,  the  isles  of  the 

Spanish  Main, 
When  they  hear  my  harem  is  empty,  will 

send  me  my  brides  again. 

I  will  take  no  heed  to  their  raiment,  nor 
food  for  their  mouths  withal. 

So  long  as  the  gulls  are  nesting,  so  long  as 
the  showers  fall. 

I  will  scent  'em  with  best  vanilla,  with  tea 

will  I  temper  their  hides. 
And  the  Moor  and  the  Mormon  shall  envy 

who  read  of  the  tale  of  my  brides. 

For  Maggie  has  written  a  letter  to  give  me 

my  choice  between 
The   wee  little  whimpering  Love  and  the 

great  god  Nick  o'  Teen. 
93 


The  Betrothed 

And  I  have  been  servant  of  Love  for  barely 

a  twelvemonth  clear, 
But  I  have  been  Priest  of  Partagas  a  matter 

of  seven  year ; 

And  the  gloom  of  my  bachelor  days  is 
flecked  with  the  cheery  light 

Of  stumps  that  I  burned  to  Friendship  and 
Pleasure  and  "Work  and  Fight. 

And  I  turn  my  eyes  to  the  future  that  Mag- 
gie and  I  must  prove — 

But  the  only  light  on  the  marshes  is  the 
Will-o'-the-Wisp  of  Love. 

Will  it  see  me  safe  through  my  journey,  or 
leave  me  bogged  in  the  mire  ? 

Since  a  pufF  of  tobacco  can  cloud  it,  shall  I 
follow  the  fitful  fire  ? 

Open    the  old  cigar-box — let  me  consider 

anew — 
Old    friends,    and  who  is  Maggie,   that  I 

should  abandon  you  f 
94 


The  Betrothed 

A  million  surplus  Maggies  are  -willing  to 

bear  the  yoke ; 
And  a  woman  is  only  a  woman,  but  a  good 

cigar  is  a  Smoke. 

Light  me  another  Cuba  ;  I  hold  to  my  first- 
sworn  vows — 

K  Maggie  will  have  no  rival,  I'll  have  no 
Maggie  for  spouse ! 


95 


Griffen's  Debt 

Imprimis,  he  was  "  broke."    Thereafter  left 
His  regiment,  and,  later,  took  to  drink  ; 
Then,  having  lost  the  balance  of  his  friends, 
"Went  Fantee" — joined  the  people  of  the 

land, 
Turned  three    parts   Mussulman    and   one 

Hindu, 
And  lived  among  the  Gauri  villagers, 
Who  gave  him  shelter  and  a  wife  or  twain, 
And    boasted  that  a  thorough,    full-blood 

sdhih 
Had  come  among  them.     Thus  he  spent  his 

time. 
Deeply  indebted  to  the  village  shroff 
(Who  never  asked  for  payment),    always 

drunk, 
Unclean,  abominable,  out-at-heels, 
Forgetting  that  he  was  an  Englishman. 
96 


Griffen's  Debt 

You  know  they  dammed  the  Gauri  with  a 
dam, 

And  all  the  good  contractors  scamped  their 
work, 

And  all  the  bad  material  at  hand 

Was  used   to  dam  the   Gauri — which   was 
cheap, 

And,   therefore,    proper.      Then  the  Gauri 
burst. 

And  several  hundred  thousand  cubic  tons 

Of  water  dropped  into  the  valley,  flop  ! 

And  drowned  some  five   and   twenty   vil- 
lagers. 

And  did  a  lakh  or  two  of  detriment 

To  crops  and  cattle.     When  the  flood  went 
down. 

We  found  him  dead,  beneath  an  old  dead 
horse, 

Full    six   miles   down   the  valley.     So   we 
said 

He  was  a  victim  to  the  Demon  Drink, 

And  moralized  upon  him  for  a  week, 

And  then  forgot  him.     Which  was  natu- 
ral. 
7  97 


OrifferCs  Debt 

But  in  the  valley  of  the  Gauri,  men 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  big  new  dam 
Relate  a  foolish  legend  of  the  flood, 
Accounting  for  the  little  loss  of  life 
(Only  those  five  and  twenty  villagers) 
In  this  wise  :  On  the  evening  of  the  flood, 
They  heard  the    groaning    of    the    rotten 

dam, 
And  voices  of  the  Mountain  Devils.     Then 
An  incarnation  of  the  local  God, 
Mounted  upon  a  monster  neighing  horse. 
And    flourishing    a    flail-like   whip,    came 

down. 
Breathing  ambrosia,  to  the  villages, 
And  fell  upon  the  simple  villagers 
With   yells    beyond  the  power  of  mortal 

throat. 
And  blows  beyond  the  power  of    mortal 

hand, 
And  smote  them  with  the  flail-like  whip,  and 

drove 
Them  clamorous  with  terror  up  the  hill. 
And  scattered,  with  the  monster  neighing 

steed, 

98 


Griffen's  Debt 

Their  crazy  cottages  about  their  ears, 
And  generally  cleared  those  villages. 
Then  came  the  water,  and  the  local  God, 
Breathing  ambrosia,  flourishing  his  whip. 
And    mounted    on   his    monster    neighing 

steed, 
"Went    down    the  valley   with    the    flying 

trees 
And    residue    of    homesteads,    while    they 

watched 
Safe  on  the  mountain-side  these  wondrous 

things, 
And  knew  that  they  were  much  beloved  of 

Heaven. 


Wherefore,  and  when  the  dam  was  newly 

built, 
They  raised  a  temple  to  the  local  God, 
And  burned  all  manner  of  unsavory  things 
Upon  his  altar,  and  created  priests. 
And  blew  into  a  conch,  and  banged  a  bell. 
And  told  the  story  of  the  Gauri  flood 
With  circumstance  and  much  embroidery. 
99 


Griff  en's  Debt 

So  he,  the  whiskified  Objectionable, 
Unclean,  abominable,  out-at-heels, 
Became  the  tutelary  Deity 
Of  all  the  Gauri  Valley  villages  ; 
And  may  in  time  become  a  Solar  Myth. 


100 


In    Springtime 

My  garden  blazes  brightly   witli  the  rose- 
bush and  the  peach, 
And  the  hoil  sings  above  it,  in  the  siris 
by  the  well  ; 
From  the  creeper-covered  trellis  comes  the 
squirrel's  chattering  speech, 
And    the   blue-jay   screams    and   flutters 
where  the  cheery  sat-hhai  dwell. 


But  the-  rose  has  lost  its  fragrance,  and  the 
IcoiVs  note  is  strange  ; 
I  am  sick   of   endless   sunshine,    sick  of 
blossom-burdened  bough. 
Give  me  back  the  leafless  woodlands  where 
the  winds  of  Springtime  range — 
Give  me  back  one  day  in  England — for 
it's  Spring  in  England  now  ! 
101 


In  Springtime 

Through  the  pines  the  gusts  are  booming, 
o'er  the  brown  fields  blowing  chill  ; 
From    the    furrow    of    the    ploughshare 
streams  the  fragrance  of  the  loam  ; 
And  the  hawk  nests  on  the  cliff -side  and  the 
jackdaw  in  the  hill — 
And  my  heart  is  back  in  England  'mid 
the  sight  and  sounds  of  Home. 

But  the  garland  of  the  sacrifice  this  wealth 
of  rose  and  peach  is  ; 
Ah!  Tcoil,  little  hoil,  singing  on  the  siHs 
bough, 
In  my  ears  the  knell  of  exile  your  ceaseless 
bell-like  speech  is — 
Can  you  tell  me  aught  of  England,  or  of 
Spring  in  England  now  ? 


102 


Two  Months 

In  June 

No  hope,  no  change  !    The  clouds  have  shut 
us  in 
And  through   the  cloud   the   sullen  Sun 

strikes  down 

Full  on  the  bosom  of  the  tortured  Town. 

Till   Night   falls   heavy  as  remembered  sin 

That  will  not  suffer   sleep   or  thought   of 

ease. 

And,  hour  on  hour,   the  dry-eyed  Moon 

in  spite 
Glares  through  the  haze  and  mocks  with 
watery  light 
The  torment  of  the  uncomplaining  trees. 
Far  oflF,  the  Thunder  bellows  her  despair 
To  echoing  Earth,  thrice  parched.     The 
lightnings  fly 
In  vain.     No  help  the  heaped -up  clouds 
afford, 

103 


Two  Months 

But  wearier  weight  of  burdened,   'burning' 
air. 
What  truce  with   Dawn  ?     Look,    from 
the  aching  sky, 
Day   stalks,    a  tyrant   with   a  flaming 
sword  ! 

In  September 

At  dawn  there  was  a  murmur  in  the  trees, 
A  ripple  on  the  tank,  and  in  the  air 
Presage     of    coming     coolness  —  every- 
where 
A  voice  of  prophecy  upon  the  breeze. 
Up  leapt  the  Sun  and  smote  the  dust  to 
gold, 
And  strove  to  parch  anew  the  heedless 
land. 
All  impotently,  as  a  King  grown  old 
"Wars  fpr  the  Empire  crumbling  'neath 
his  hand. 
One  after  one,  the  lotos-petals  fell 
Beneath  the  onslaught  of  the  rebel  year 
In  mutiny  against  a  furious  sky  ; 
104 


Tn'o  Months 

And  far-off  Winter  whispered,  "  It  is  well  ! 
Hot  Summer  dies.     Beliold,  your  help  is 
near  ! 
For  when   men's   need  is  sorest,   then 
come  I." 


105 


The  Galley-Slave 

Oh,  gallant  was  our  galley  from  her  carven 

steering-wheel 
To  her  figurehead  of  silver  and  her  beak  of 

hammered  steel ; 
The  leg-bar  chafed  the  ankle,  and  we  gasped 

for  cooler  air, 
But  no  galley  on  the  water  with  our  galley 

could  compare ! 


Our  bulkheads  bulged  with  cotton,  and  our 

masts  were  stepped  in  gold — 
We  ran  a  mighty  merchandise  of  niggers  in 

the  hold ; 
The  white  foam  spun  behind  us,  and  the 

black  shark  swam  below. 
As  we  gripped  the  kicking  sweep-head  and 

we  made  that  galley  go. 
106 


The  Galley-Slave 

It  was  merry  in  the  galley,  for  we  revelled 

now  and  then — 
If  they  wore  us  down  like  cattle,  faith,  we 

fought  and  loved  like  men ! 
As  we  snatched  her  through  the  Avater,  so 

we  snatched  a  minute's  bliss, 
And  the  mutter  of  the  dying  never  spoiled 

the  lovers'  kiss. 


Our  women  and  our  children  toiled  beside 

us  in  the  dark — 
They  died,  we  filed  their  fetters,  and  we 

heaved  them  to  the  shark — 
We  heaved  them  to  the  fishes,  but  so  fast  the 

galley  sped. 
We  had  only  time  for  envy,  for  we  could 

not  mourn  our  dead. 


Bear  witness,  once  my  comrades,  what  a 

hard-bit  gang  were  we — 
The  servants  of  the  sweep-head,   but  the 

masters  of  the  sea ! 
107 


The  Galley-Slave 

By  the  hands  that  drove  her  forward  as  she 
plunged  and  yawed  and  sheered, 

Woman,  Man,  or  God  or  Devil,  was  there 
anything  we  feared  ? 


Was  it  storm  ?  Our  fathers  faced  it,  and  a 
wilder  never  blew ; 

Earth  that  waited  for  the  wreckage  saw  the 
galley  struggle  through. 

Burning  noon  or  choking  midnight,  Sick- 
ness, Sorrow,  Parting,  Death  ? 

Nay,  our  very  babes  would  mock  you,  had 
they  time  for  idle  breath ! 


But  to-day  I  leave  the  galley,  and  another 

takes  my  place  ; 
There's  my  name  upon  the  deck-beam — let 

it  stand  a  little  space. 
I  am  free — to  watch  my  messmates  beating 

out  to  open  main, — 
Free  of    all  that  Life  can  offer — save  to 

handle  sweep  again. 
108 


The  Galley-Slave 

By  the  brand  upon  my  shoulder,  by  the  gall 

of  clinging  steel , 
By  the  welts  the  whips  have  left  me,  by  the 

scars  that  never  heal, 
By  eyes  grown  old  with  staring  through  the 

sun-wash  on  the  brine, 
I  am  paid  in  full  for  service — would  that 

service  still  were  mine ! 


Yet  they  talk  of  times  and  seasons,  and  of 
woe  the  years  bring  forth — 

Of  our  galley  swamped  and  shattered  in  the 
rollers  of  the  North  ; 

When  the  niggers  break  the  hatches,  and 
the  decks  are  gay  with  gore, 

And  a  craven-hearted  pilot  crams  her  crash- 
ing on  the  shore. 


She  will  need  no  half-mast  signal,  minute- 
gun,  or  rocket-flare ; 

When  the  cry  for  help  goes  seaward,  she 
will  find  her  servants  there. 
109 


The  Galley- Slave 

Battered  chain-gangs  of  the  orlop,  grizzled 

drafts  of  years  gone  by, 
To  the  bench  that  broke  their  manhood  they 

shall  lash  themselves  and  die. 

Hale  and  crippled,  young  and  aged,  paid, 

deserted,  shipped  away — 
Palace,  cot,  and  lazaretto  shall  make  up  the 

tale  that  day, 
When  the  skies  are  black  above  them,  and 

the  decks  ablaze  beneath. 
And  the  top-men  clear  the  raffle  with  their 

clasp-knives  in  their  teeth. 

It  may  be  that  Fate  will  give  me  life  and 

leave  to  row  once  more — 
Set  some  strong  man  free  for  fighting  as  I 

take  a  while  his  oar. 
But  to-day  I  leave  the  galley.     Shall  I  curse 

her  service,  then  ? 
God  be  thanked — whate'er  comes  after,  I 

have  lived  and  toiled  with  Men ! 

no 


L'  Envoi 

{To  xchom  it  may  concern) 

The  smoke  upon  your  Altar  dies,  the  flowers 

decay ; 
The  Goddess  of  3'our  sacrifice    has   flown 
away. 
What  profit,  then,  to  sing  or  slay 
The  sacrifice  from  day  to  day  ? 

"We  know  the  Shrine  is  void,"  they  said, 

"the  Goddess  flown ; 
Yet  wreaths  are  on  the  Altar  laid — the  Altar- 
stone 
Is  black  with  fumes  of  sacrifice, 
Albeit  She  had  fled  our  eyes. 

"For,  it  may  be,  if  still  we  sing  and  tend 

the  Shrine, 
Some  Deity  on  wandering  wing  may  there 
incline ; 
And,  finding  all  in  order  neat. 
Stay  while  we  worship  at  Her  feet." 
Ill 


The  Conundrum  of  the  Workshops 

When  the  flush  of  a  new-born  sun  fell  first 

on  Eden's  green  and  gold, 
Our  father  Adam  sat  under  the  Tree  and 

scratched  with  a  stick  in  the  mould ; 
And  the  first  rude  sketch  that  the  world  had 

seen  was  joy  to  his  mighty  heart, 
Till  the  Devil  whispered  behind  the  leaves, 

"  It's  pretty— but  is  it  art  ? " 

Wherefore  he  called  to  his  wife,  and  fled  to 

fashion  his  work  anew — 
The  first  of  his  race  who  cared  a  fig  for  the 

first  most  dread  review ; 
And  he  left  his  lore  to  the  use  of  his  sons — 

and  that  was  a  glorious  gain — 
When  the  Devil  chuckled,  "Is  it  art?"  in 

the  ear  of  the  branded  Cain. 

They  builded  a  tower  to  shiver  the  sky  and 
wrench  the  stars  apart, 
112 


The  Conundrum  of  the  Woi'Tcshops 

Till  the  Devil  grunted  behind  the  bricks, 
"It's  striking — but  is  it  art  ?" 

The  stone  was  dropped  at  the  quarry-side, 
and  the  idle  derrick  swung, 

While  each  man  talked  of  the  aims  of  art, 
and  each  in  an  alien  tongue. 

They  fought  and  they  talked  in  tlie  north 

and  the  south,  they  talked  and  they 

fought  in  the  west, 
Till  the  waters  rose  on  the  jabbering  land, 

and  the  poor  Red  Clay  had  rest — 
Had  rest  till  the  dank  blank-canvas  dawn 

when  the  dove  was  preened  to  start. 
And  the  Devil  bubbled  below  the  keel,  ' '  It's 

human — but  is  it  art  ? " 

The  tale  is  old  as  the  Eden  Tree — as  new  as 

the  new-cut  tooth — 
For  each  man  knows  ere  his  lip-thatch  grows 

he  is  master  of  art  and  truth; 
And  each  man  hears  as  the  twilight  nears, 

to  the  beat  of  his  dying  heart, 
The    Devil    drum  on   the  darkened  pane, 

"  You  did  it— but  was  it  art  ? " 

8  113 


The  Conundrum  of  the  Workshops 

We  have  learned  to  whittle  the  Eden  Tree 

to  the  shape  of  a  surplice-peg; 
We  have  learned  to  bottle  our  parents  twain 

in  the  yolk  of  an  addled  egg ; 
We  know  that  the  tail  must  wag  the  dog,  as 

the  horse  is  drawn  by  the  cart; — 
But  the  Devil  whoops,  as  he  whooped  of  old, 

"  It's  clever— but  is  it  art  ?" 


When  the  flicker  of  London  sun  falls  faint 
on  the  club-room's  green  and  gold, 

The  sons  of  Adam  sit  them  down  and  scratch 
with  their  pens  in  the  mould — 

They  scratch  with  their  pens  in  the  mould  of 
their  graves ;  and  the  ink  and  the  an- 
guish start 

When  the  Devil  mutters  behind  the  leaves, 
"It's  pretty— but  is  it  art  ? " 

Now,  if  we  could  win  to  the  Eden  Tree 
where  the  four  great  rivers  flow, 

And  the  wreath  of  Eve  is  red  on  the  turf  as 
she  left  it  long  ago, 
114 


The  Conundrum  of  the  Workshops 

And  if  we  could  come  when  the  sentry  slept, 

and  softly  scurry  through, 
By  the  favor  of  God  we  might  know  as 

much — as  our  father  Adam  knew. 


115 


The  Explanation 


Love  and  Death  once  ceased  their  strife 
At  the  Tavern  of  Man's  Life. 

Called  for  wine,  and  threw — alas  ! — 
Each  his  quiver  on  the  grass. 

When  the  bout  was  o'er,  they  found 
Mingled  arrows  strewed  the  ground. 

Hastily  they  gathered  then 
Each  the  loves  and  lives  of  men. 

Ah,  the  fateful  dawn  deceived  ! 
Mingled  arrows  each  one  sheaved  : 

Death's  dread  armory  was  stored 
With  the  shafts  he  most  abhorred  : 

Love's  light  quiver  g^roaned  beneath 
Venom-hearted  darts  of  death. 
116 


The  Explanation 

Thus  it  was  they  wrought  our  woe 

At  the  tavern  long  ago. 

Tell  me,  do  our  masters  know. 

Loosing  blindly  as  they  fly, 

Old  men  love  while  young  men  die 


117 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea 

The  dead  child  lay  in  the  shroud, 
And  the  widow  watched  beside  ; 

And  her  mother  slept,  and  the  Channel 
swept 
The  gale  in  the  teeth  of  the  tide. 

But  the  widow  laughed  at  all. 

' '  I  have  lost  my  man  in  the  sea, 
And  the  child  is  dead.    Be  still,"  she  said, 

' '  What  more  can  ye  do  to  me  ?  " 

And  the  widow  watched  the  dead. 

And  the  candle  guttered  low. 
And  she  tried  to  sing  the  Passing  Song 

That  bids  the  poor  soul  go. 

And  "Mary  take  you  now,"  she  sang, 
"  That  lay  against  my  heart." 

And  "  Mary  smooth  your  crib  to-night," 
But  she  could  not  say  "  Depart." 
118 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea 

Then  came  a  cry  from  the  sea, 
But  the  sea-rime  blinded  the  glass, 

And  "  Heard  ye  nothing,  mother  ?  "  she 
said  ; 
"  'Tis  the  child  that  waits  to  pass."' 

And  the  nodding  mother  sighed. 

"  'Tis  a  lambing  ewe  in  the  whin  ; 
For  why  should  the  christened  soul  cry  out 

That  never  knew  of  sin  ? " 

"  Oh,  feet  I  have  held  in  my  hand, 
Oh,  hands  at  my  heart  to  catch  ! 

How  should  they  know  the  road  to  go. 
And  how  should  they  lift  the  latch  ?  " 

They  laid  a  sheet  to  the  door 

With  the  little  quilt  atop. 
That  it  might  not  hurt  from  the  cold  or 
the  dirt, 

But  the  crying  would  not  stop. 

The  widow  lifted  the  latch 

And  strained  her  eyes  to  see. 
And  opened  the  door  on  the  bitter  shore 

To  let  the  soul  go  free. 
119 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea 

There  was  neither  glimmer  nor  ghost, 
There  was  neither  spirit  nor  spark, 

And  ' '  Heard  ye  nothing,  raother  ? "  she 
said  ; 
"  'Tis  crying  for  me  in  the  dark." 

And  the  nodding  mother  sighed. 

'"Tis  sorrow  makes  ye  dull  ; 
Have  ye  yet  to  learn  the  cry  of  the  tern, 

Or  the  wail  of  the  wind-blown  guU  ? " 

' '  The  terns  are  blown  inland, 
The  gray  gull  follows  the  plough, 

'Twas  never  a  bird,  the  voice  I  heard — 
O  mother,  I  hear  it  now  !  " 

' '  Lie  still,  dear  lamb,  lie  still  ; 

The  child  it  passed  from  harm — 
'Tis  the  ache  in  your  breast  that  broke 
your  rest, 

And  the  feel  of  an  empty  arm." 

She  put  her  mother  aside. 
"In  Mary's  name,  let  be  ! 
120 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea 

For  the  peace  of  my  soul  I  must  go,"  she 
said  ; 
And  she  went  to  the  calling  sea. 

In  the  heel  of  the  wind-bit  pier, 
Where  the  twisted  weed  was  piled, 

She  came  to  the  life  she  had  missed  by 
an  hour, 
For  she  came  to  a  little  child. 

She  laid  it  into  her  breast, 

And  back  to  her  mother  she  came  ; 
But  it  would  not  feed,  and  it  would  not 
heed, 
Though  she   gave   it  her   own   child's 
name. 

And  the  dead  child  dripped  on  her  breast. 
And  her  own  in  the  shroud  lay  stark  ; 

And  "  God  forgive  us,  mother,'"  she  said  ; 
"  We  let  it  die  in  the  dark  ! " 


121 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

On,  East  is  East,  and  West  is  West,  and 

never  the  twain  shall  meet, 
Till  Earth  and    SJcy  stand   presently  at 

God's  great  Judgment  Seat ; 
But  there  is  neither  East  nor  West,  Border, 

nor  Breed,  nor  Birth, 
When  two  strong  men  stand  face  to  face, 

though  they  come  from,  the  ends  of  the 

earth. 

Kamal  is  out  -with  twenty  men  to  raise  the 
Border-side, 

And  he  has  lifted  the  Colonel's  mare  that  is 
the  Coloners  pride  : 

He  has  lifted  her  out  of  the  stable-door  be- 
tween the  dawn  and  the  day, 

And  turned  the  calkins  upon  her  feet,  and 
ridden  her  far  away. 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

Then  up  and  spoke  the  ColoneFs  son  that 
led  a  troop  of  the  Guides  : — 

"  Is  there  never  a  man  of  all  my  men  can 
say  where  Kamal  hides  ? '' 


Then  up  and  spoke  Mahommed  Khan,  the 

son  of  the  Ressaldar  : — 
"  If  ye  know  the  track  of  the  morning-mist 

ye  know  where  his  pickets  are. 
At  dusk  he  harries  the  Abazai — at  dawn  he 

is  into  Bonair  ; 
But  he  must  go  by  Fort  Bukloh  to  his  own 

place  to  fare. 
So  if  ye  gallop  to  Fort  Bukloh  as  fast  as  a 

bird  can  fly, 
By  the  favor  of  God,  ye  may  cut  him  off 

ere  he  win  to  the  Tongue  of  Jagai. 
But  if  he  be  passed  the  Tongue  of  Jagai, 

right  swiftly  turn  ye  then — 
For  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  that  grisly 

plain  is  sown  with  Kamal's  men. 
There  is  rock  to  the  left,  and  rock  to  the 

right,  and  low  lean  thorn  between, 
123 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

And  ye  may  hear  a  breech-bolt  snick  wbere 
never  a  man  is  seen." 

The  Colonel's  son  has  taken  a  horse,  and  a 

raw  rough  dun  was  he, 
With  the  mouth  of  a  bell,  and  the  heart  of 

Hell,  and  the  head  of  the  gallows- 
tree. 
The  Colonel's  son  to  the  Fort  has  won  ; 

they  bid  him  stay  to  eat — 
Who  rides  at  the  tail  of  a  Border  thief,  he 

sits  not  long  at  his  meat. 
He's  up  and  away  from  Fort  Bukloh  as  fast 

as  he  can  fly, 
Till  he  was  aware  of  his  father's  mare  in  the 

gut  of  the  Tongue  of  Jagai — 
Till  he  was  aware  of  his  father's  mare,  with 

Kamal  upon  her  back, 
And  when  he  could  spy  the  white  of  her 

eye,  he  made  the  pistol  crack. 
He  has  fired  once,  he  has  fired  twice,  but 

the  whistling  ball  went  wide. 
"Ye  shoot    like    a    soldier,"  Kamal    said. 

' '  Show  now  if  ye  can  ride. " 
124 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

It's  up  and  over  the  Tongue   of  Jagai,  as 

blown  dust-devils  go — 
The  dun  he  fled  like  a  stag  of  ten,  but  tlic 

mare  like  a  barren  doe. 
The  dun   he    leaned    against   the   bit   and 

slugged  his  head  above, 
But  the  red  mare  played  witli  the  snaffie- 

bars  as  a  maiden  plays  with  a  glove. 
There  was  rock  to  the  left,  and  rock  to  the 

right,  and  low  lean  thorn  between, 
And  thrice  he  heard  a  breech-bolt  snick, 

though  never  a  man  was  seen. 
They  have  ridden  the  low  moon  out  of  the 

sky,  their  hoofs  drum  up  the  dawn — 
The  dun  he  went  like  a  wounded  bull,  but 

the  mare  like  a  new-roused  fawn. 
The  dun    he  fell  at   a   watercourse  —  in  a 

woful  heap  fell  he, 
And  Kamal  has  turned  tlie  red  mare  back, 

and  pulled  the  rider  free. 


He  has  knocked  the  pistol  out  of  his  hand — 
small  room  was  there  to  strive — 

125 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

"  'Twas  only  by  favor  of  mine,"  quoth  he, 

"  ye  rode  so  long  alive  : 
There  was  not  a  rock  for  twenty  mile,  there 

was  not  a  clump  of  tree, 
But  covered  a  man  of  my  own  men  with  his 

rifle  cocked  on  his  knee. 
If  I  had  raised  my  bridle-hand,  as  I  have 

held  it  low, 
The  little  jackals  that  flee  so  fast  were  feast- 
ing all  in  a  row  : 
If  I  had  bowed  my  head  on  my  breast,  as  I 

have  held  it  high. 
The  kite  that  whistles  above  us  now  were 

gorged  till  she  could  not  fly." 


Lightly  answered  the  Colonel's  son  :  "  Do 

good  to  bird  and  beast. 
But  count  who  come  for  the  broken  meats 

before  thou  makest  a  feast. 
If  there  should  follow  a  thousand  swords  to 

carry  my  bones  away, 
Belike  the  price  of  a  jackal's  meal  were 

more  than  a  thief  could  pay. 
126 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

They  will  feed  their  horse  on  the  standing 

crop,  their  men  on  the  garnered  grain ; 
The  thatch  of  the  byres  will  serve  their  fires 

when  all  the  cattle  are  slain. 
But  if  thou  thinkest  the  price  be  fair, — thy 

brethren  wait  to  sup — 
The  hound  is  kin   to   the   jackal-spawn, — 

howl,  dog,  and  call  them  up  ! 
And  if  thou  thinkest  the  price  be  higli,  in 

steer  and  gear  and  stack. 
Give  me  my  father's  mare  again,  and  I'll 

fight  my  own  way  back  !  " 

Kamal  has  gripped  him  by  the  hand  and  set 

him  upon  his  feet. 
"  No  talk  shall  be  of  dogs,"  said  he,  "  when 

wolf  and  gray  wolf  meet. 
May  I  eat  dirt  if  thou  hast  hurt  of  me  in 

deed  or  breath ; 
What  dam  of  lances  brought  thee  forth  to 

jest  at  the  dawn  with  Death  ? " 

Lightly  answered  the   Colonel's  son  :    "I 

hold  by  the  blood  of  my  clan  : 

127 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

Take  up  the  mare  for  my  father's  gift — by- 
God,  she  has  cari-ied  a  man  !  " 

The  red  mare  ran  to  the  Colonel's  son  and 
nuzzled  against  his  breast. 

"  We  be  two  strong  men,"  said  Kamal  then, 
' '  but  she  loveth  the  younger  best. 

So  shall  she  go  with  a  lifter's  dower,  my 
turquoise-studded  rein, 

My  broidered  saddle  and  saddle-cloth,  and 
silver  stirrups  twain." 

The  Coloael's  son  a  pistol  drew  and  held  it 

muzzle-end. 
"  Ye  have  taken  the  one  from  a  foe,"  said 

he;    "  will  ye  take  the  mate  from  a 

friend  ? " 

"A  gift  for  a  gift,"  said  Kamal  straight ;  "  a 

limb  for  the  risk  of  a  limb. 
Thy  father  has  sent  his  son  to  me — I'll  send 

my  son  to  him  !  " 
With  that  he  whistled   his  only  son,  that 

dropped  from  a  mountain-crest — 
328 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

He  trod  the  ling-  like  a  buck  in  spring,  and 
he  looked  like  a  lance  in  rest. 

"Now,    here  is   thy   master,"   Kamal  said, 

"who  leads  a  troop  of  the  Guides, 
And  thou  must  ride  at  his  left  side,  as  shield 

on  shoulder  rides. 
Till  death  or  I  cut  loose  the  tie,  at  camp  and 

board  and  bed, 
Thy  life  is  his — thy  fate  it  is  to  guai*d  him 

with  thy  head. 
So  thou  must  eat  the  White  Queen's  meat, 

and  all  her  foes  are  thine. 
And  thou  must  harry  thy  father's  hold  for 

the  peace  of  the  Border-line : 
And  thou  must  make  a  trooper  tough,  and 

hack  thy  way  to  power — 
Belike    they   will   raise    thee   to   Ressaldar 

when  I  am  hanged  in  Peshawur." 

They  have  looked  each  other  between  the 
eyes,  and  there  they  found  no  fault ; 

They  have  taken  the  Oath  of  the  Brother-in- 
Blood  on  leavened  bread  and  salt ; 
9  129 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

They  have  taken  the  Oath  of  the  Brother-in- 
Blood  on  fire  and  fresh-cut  sod, 

On  the  hilt  and  the  haft  of  the  Khyber 
knife,  and  the  Wondrous  Names  of 
God. 


The  Colonel's  son  he  rides  the  mare,  and 

Kamal's  boy  the  dun. 
And  two  have  come  back  to  Fort  Bukloh 

where  there  went  forth  but  one. 
And  when  they  drew  to  the  Quarter-Guard, 

full  twenty  swords  flew  clear — 
There  was  not  a  man  but  carried  his  feud 

with  the  blood  of  the  mountaineer. 
"Ha'  done  !  ha'  done  ! "  said  the  Colonel's 

son.     ' '  Put  up  the  steel  at  your  sides ! 
Last  night  ye  had  struck  at  a  Border  thief — 

to-night  'tis  a  man  of  the  Guides  ! " 

Oh,  East  is  East,  and  West  is  West,  and 

never  the  two  shall  meet, 
Till  Earth   and  Sky   stand  presently  at 

God's  great  Judgment  Seat ; 
130 


The  Ballad  of  East  and  West 

But  there  is  neither  East  nor  West,  Border, 

nor  Breed,  nor  Birth, 
When  two  strong  men  stand  face  to  face, 

though  they  come  from  the  ends  of 

the  earth. 


131 


The  Last  Suttee 

[Not  many  years  ago  a  King  died  in  one  of  the 
Rajpoot  States.  His  wives,  disregarding  the  orders 
of  the  English  against  suttee,  would  have  broken  out 
of  the  palace  had  not  the  gates  been  barred.  But 
one  of  them,  disguised  as  the  King's  favorite  danc- 
ing-girl, passed  through  the  line  of  guards  and 
reached  the  pyre.  There,  her  courage  failing,  she 
prayed  her  cousin,  a  baron  of  the  court,  to  kill  lier. 
This  he  did,  not  knowing  who  she  was.] 

Udai  Chand  lay  sick  to  death 

In  his  hold  by  GrUBgra  hill. 
All  night  we  heard  the  death-gongs  ring 
For  the  soul  of  the  dying  Rajpoot  King, 
All  night  beat  up  from  the  w^omen's  wing 

A  cry  that  we  coiild  not  still. 

All  night  the  barons  came  and  went, 

The  lords  of  the  outer  guard : 
All  night  the  cressets  glimmered  pale 
132 


Hie  Last  Suttee 

On  Ulwar  sabre  and  Toiik  jezail, 
Mewar  headstall  and  Marwar  mail, 
That  clinked  in  the  palace  yard. 

In  the  Golden  room  on  the  palace  roof 

All  night  he  fought  for  air ; 
And  there  was  sobbing  behind  tlie  sci-een, 
Rustle  and  whisper  of  women  iinseen, 
And  the  hungry  eyes  of  the  Booiuli  Queen 

On  the  death  she  might  not  share. 

He  passed  at  dawn — the  death-fire  leaped 

From  ridge  to  river-bed, 
From  the  Malwa  plains  to  the  Abu  scauis ; 
And  wail  upon  wail  went  up  to  the  stars 
Behind  the  grim  zenana-bars. 

When   they  knew  that  the   King  was 
dead. 

The  dumb  priest  knelt  to  tie  his  mouth 

And  robe  him  for  the  pyre. 
The  Boondi  Queen  beneath  us  cried, 
"  See,  now,  that  we  die  as  our  mothers  died. 
In  the  bridal-bed  by  our  master's  side ! 

Out,  women ! — to  the  fire ! " 
133 


The  Last  Suttee 

We  drove  the  great  gates  home  apace; 

White  hands  were  on  the  sill : 
But  ere  the  rush  of  the  unseen  feet 
Had  reached  the  turn  to  the  open  street, 
The  bars  shot  down,  the  guard-drum  beat — 

We  held  the  dove-cot  still. 

A  face  looked  down  in  the  gathering  day, 
And,  laughing,  spoke  from  the  wall : 

* '  Ohe,  they  mourn  hei-e  :  let  me  by — 

Azizun,  the  Lucknow  nautch-girl,  I ! 

When  the  house  is  rotten,  the  rats  must  fly. 
And  I  seek  another  thrall. 

"  For  I  ruled  the  King  as  ne'er  did  Queen — 

To-night  the  Queens  rule  me ! 
Guard  them  safely,  but  let  me  go. 
Or  ever  they  pay  the  debt  they  owe 
In   scourge  and   torture ! "     She  leaped  be- 
low, 
And  the  grim  guard  watched  her  flee. 

They  knew  that    the  King  had  spent  his 
soul 
On  a  North-bred  dancing-girl ; 
134 


The  Last  Suttee 

Tliat  he  prayed  to  a  flat-nose  Luckiiow  god, 
And  kissed  the  ground  wliere  her  feet  had 

trod, 
And  doomed  to  death  at  her  drunken  nod, 
And  swore  by  her  liglitest  curl. 

We  bore  the  King  to  his  fathers'  place, 

Where  the  tombs  of  the  Sun-born  stand ; 
Where  the  gray  apes  swing,  and  the  pea- 
cocks preen 
On  fretted  pillar  and  jewelled  screen, 
And  the  wild  boar  couch  in  the  house  of 
the  Queen 
On  the  di'ift  of  the  desert  sand. 

The  herald  read  his  titles  forth ; 

We  set  the  logs  aglow : 
"Friend  of  the  English,  free  from  fear. 
Baron  of  Luni  to  Jeysulmeer, 
Lord  of  the  Desert  of  Bikaneer, 

King  of  the  Jungle, — go ! " 

All  night  the  red  flame  stabbed  the  skj^ 
With  wavering  wind-tossed  spears; 
135 


The  Last  Suttee 

And  out  of  a  shattered  temple  crept 
A  woman  who  veiled  her  head  and  wept, 
And  called  on  the  King — but  the  great  King 
slept, 
And  turned  not  for  her  tears. 

Small  thought  had  he  to  mark  the  strife — 

Cold  fear  with  hot  desire — 
When  thrice  she  leaped  from  the  leaping 

flame, 
And  thrice  she  heat  her  breast  for  shame, 
And  thrice  like  a  wounded  dove  she  came 

And  moaned  about  the  fire. 

One  watched,  a  bow-shot  from  the  blaze, 

The  silent  streets  between, 
Who  had  stood  by  the  King  in  sport  and 

fray. 
To  blade  in  ambush  or  boar  at  bay, 
And  he  was  a  baron  old  and  gray, 

And  kin  to  the  Boondi  Queen. 

He  said :  "  O  shameless,  put  aside 
The  veil  upon  thy  brow  I 
186 


The  Last  Suttee 

Who  held  the  King-  and  all  his  land 
To  the  wanton  will  of  a  harlot's  hand ! 
Will  the  white  ash  rise  from  tlie  blistered 
brand? 
Stoop  down  and  call  him  now  I "' 

Then  she :  ' '  By  the  faith  of  my  tarnished 
soul, 

All  things  I  did  not  well 
I  had  hoped  to  clear  ere  the  fire  died, 
And  lay  me  down  by  my  master's  side. 
To  rule  in  Heaven  his  only  bride, 

While  the  others  howl  in  Hell. 

"  But  I  have  felt  the  fire's  breath, 

And  hard  it  is  to  die ! 
Yet  if  I  may  pray  a  Rajpoot  lord 
To  sully  the  steel  of  a  Thakur's  sword 
With  base-born  blood  of  a  trade  abhorred, " — 

And  the  Thakur  answered,  "Ay." 

He  drew  and    struck  :   the  straight  blade 
drank 
The  life  beneath  the  breast. 
137 


The  Last  Suttee 

"I  had  looked  for  the  Queen  to  face  the 

flame, 
But  the  harlot  dies  for  the  Rajpoot  dame. 
Sister  of  mine,  pass,  free  from  shame — 
Pass  with  thy  King  to  rest ! " 

The  black  log  crashed  above  the  white; 

The  little  flames  and  lean, 
Red  as  slaughter  and  blue  as  steel, 
That  whistled  and  fluttered  from  head  to 

heel. 
Leaped  up  anew — for  they  found  their  meal 

On  the  heart  of — the  Boondi  Queen ! 


138 


The  Ballad  of  the  "Clampherdown  " 

It  was  our  war-ship  "  Clampherdown" 

Would  sweep  the  Channel  clean  ; 
Wherefore  she  kept  her  hatches  close 
When  the  merry  Channel  chops  arose, 
To  save  the  bleached  marine. 

She  had  one  bow-gun  of  a  huiadred  ton, 

And  a  great  stern -gun  beside; 
They  dipped  their  noses  deep  in  the  sea, 
They  racked  their  stays  and  stanchions  free 

In  the  wash  of  the  wind-whipped  tide. 

It  was  our  war-ship  "  Clampherdown  " 

Fell  in  with  a  cruiser  light 
That  carried  the  dainty  Hotchkiss  gun 
And  a  pair  o'  heels  wherewith  to  run 

From  the  grip  of  a  close-fought  fight. 

She  opened  fire  at  seven  miles — 
As  ye  shoot  at  a  bobbing  cork ; 
139 


The  Ballad  of  the  "  Clampherdovm^^ 

And  once  she  fired,  and  twice  she  fired, 
Till  the  bow-gun  drooped  like  a  lily  tired 
That  lolls  upon  the  stalk. 

"Captain,  the  bow-gun  melts  apace, 

The  deck-beams  break  below ; 
'Tvvere  well  to  rest  for  an  hour  or  twain. 
And  botch  the  shattered  plates  again." 

And  he  answered,  "  Make  it  so." 

She  opened  fire  within  the  mile — 
As  ye  shoot  at  the  flying  duck ; 
And  the  great  stern-gun  shot  fair  and  true. 
With  the  heave  of  the  ship,  to  the  stainless 
blue. 
And  the  great  stern-turret  stuck. 

"  Captain,  the  turret  fills  with  steam, 

The  feed-pipes  burst  below — 
You  can  hear  the  hiss  of  helpless  ram, 
You  can  hear  the  twisted  runners  jam." 

And  he  answered,  ' '  Turn  and  go ! " 

It  was  our  war-ship  "  Clampherdown," 
And  grimly  did  she  roll ; 
140 


The  Ballad  of  the  ' '  Clampherdoivn "' 

Swung  round  to  take  the  cruiser's  fire, 
As  the  White  Whale  faces  the  Thresher's 
ire, 
When  they  war  by  tlie  frozen  Pole. 

"Captain,  the  shells  are  falliny  fast. 

And  f a&ter  still  fall  we ; 
And  it  is  not  meet  for  English  stock 
To  bide  in  the  heart  of  an  eight-day  clock 

The  death  they  cannot  see." 

"Lie  down,  lie  down,  my  bold  A.  B. — 

We  drift  upon  her  beam ; 
We  dare  not  ram — for  she  can  run ; 
And  dare  ye  fire  another  gun, 

And  die  in  the  peeling  steam  ? " 

It  was  our  war-ship  ' '  Clampherdown  " 

That  carried  an  armor-belt ; 
But  fifty  feet  at  stern  and  bow 
Lay  bare  as  the  paunch  of  the  purser's  sow 

To  the  hail  of  the  Nordenfeldt. 

"  Captain,  they  lack  us  through  and  through ; 
The  chilled-steel  bolts  are  swift  I 
141 


The  Ballad  of  the  "  Clampherdown'^ 

We  have  emptied  the  bunkers  in  open  sea, 
Their  shrapnel  bursts  where  our  coal  should 
be." 
And  he  answered,  "Let  her  drift." 

It  was  our  war-ship  ' '  Clampherdown  " 

Swimg  round  upon  the  tide ; 
Her   two    dumb  guns    glared    south    and 

north, 
And  the  blood  and  the  bubbling  steam  ran 
forth, 
And  she  ground  the  cruiser's  side. 

"  Captain,  they  cry  the  fight  is  done; 

They  bid  you  send  your  sword." 
And  he  answered,  "Grapple  her  stern  and 

bow. 
They  have  asked  for  the  steel.     They  shall 
have  it  now 
Out  cutlasses  and  board ! " 

It  was  our  war-ship  "  Clampherdown" 
Spewed  up  four  hundred  men ; 
143 


The  Ballad  of  the  ^^  Clampherdoicn'''' 

And  the  scalded  stokers  yelped  delight, 
As  they  I'olled  in  the  waist  and  heard  the 
fight 
Stamp  o'er  their  steel-walled  pen. 

They  cleared  the  cruiser  end  to  end, 

From  conning-tower  to  hold. 
They  fought  as    they  fought  in   Nelson's 

fleet; 
They  were  stripped  to  the  waist,  they  were 
bare  to  the  feet, 
As  it  was  in  the  days  of  old. 

It  was  the  sinking  "  Clampherdown  " 

Heaved  up  her  battered  side — 
And  carried  a  million  pounds  in  steel 
To  the  cod  and  the  corpse-fed  conger-eel 

And  the  scour  of  the  Channel  tide. 

It  was  the  crew  of  the  "  Clampherdown  " 

Stood  out  to  sweep  the  sea, 
On  a  cruiser  won  from  an  ancient  foe, 
As  it  was  in  the  days  of  long-ago, 

And  as  it  still  shall  be. 
143 


The  Vampire 


As  suggested  by  the  Painting  by  Philip  Burne- 
Jones 

A  FOOL  there  was  and  he  made  his  prayer 

(Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 
To  a  rag  and  a  bone  and  a  hank  of  hair 
(We  called  her  the  woman  who  did  not 

care), 
But  the  fool  he  called  her  his  lady  fair 

(Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 


Oh  the  years  we  waste  and  the  tears  we 

waste 
And  the  work  of  our  head  and  hand 
Belong  to  the  woman  who  did  not  know 
{And  now  we  know  that  she  never  could 
know) 
And  did  not  understand. 
Hi 


The  Vampire 

A  fool  ther*e  was  and  his  goods  he  spent 

(Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 
Honor  and  faith  and  a  sure  intent 
(And    it    wasn't    the    least   wliat    the  lady 

meant), 
But  a  fool  must  follow  his  natural  bent 

(Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 

Oh  the  toil  we  lost  and  the  spoil  we  lost 
And  the  excellent  things  ive  planned 
Belong  to    the    woman   ivho  didn't  know 

ivhy 
{And  noiv  we  know  she  never  knew  why) 
And  did  not  understand. 


The  fool  was  stripped  to  his  foolish  hide 

(Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 
Which  she  might  have  seen  when  she  threw 

him  aside — 
(But  it  isn't  on  record  the  lady  tried) 
So  some  of  him  lived  but  the  most  of  him 
died — 
(Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 
10  145 


The  Vampire 

And  it  isn't  the  shame  and  it  isn''t  the 

blame 
That  stings  like  a  white-hot  brand. 
IVs  coming  to  knoiv  that  she  never  knew 

why 
(Seeing  at  last  she  could  never  know  why) 
And  never  could  understand. 


146 


Our  Lady  of  the  Snows 

A  NATION  spoke  to  a  nation, 

A  Queen  sent  word  to  a  throne  : 
Daughter  am  I  in  my  mother's  house, 

But  mistress  in  my  own. 
The  gates  are  mine  to  open 

As  the  gates  are  mine  to  close. 
And  I  set  my  house  in  order, 

Said  the  Lady  of  the  Snows. 


Neither  with  laughter  nor  weeping. 

Fear  or  the  child's  amaze, 
Soberly  under  the  white  man's  law 

My  white  men  go  their  ways. 
Not  for  the  Gentile's  clamor, 

Insult  or  threat  of  blows. 
Bow  we  the  knee  of  Baal, 

Said  our  Lady  of  the  Snows. 
147 


Our  Lady  of  the  Snoujs 

My  speech  is  clear  and  single, 

I  talk  of  common  things, 
Words  of  the  wharf  or  market-place 

And  the  ware  the  merchant  brings. 
Favor  to  those  I  favor, 

But  a  stumbling-block  for  my  foes, 
Many  there  be  that  hate  us, 

Said  our  Lady  of  the  Snows. 


I  called  my  chiefs  to  council, 

In  the  din  of  a  troubled  year, 
For  the  sake  of  a  sign  ye  would  not  see 

And  a  word  ye  would  not  hear. 
This  is  our  message  and  answer. 

This  is  the  path  we  chose, 
For  we  be  also  a  people, 

Said  our  Lady  of  the  Snows. 


Carry  the  word  to  my  sisters, 

To  the  Queens  of  the  East  and  South, 
I  have  proved  faith  in  the  heritage 

By  more  than  a  word  of  mouth. 
148 


Our  Lady  of  the  Snows 

They  that  are  wise  may  follow, 

Ere  the  world's  war-trumpet  blows. 

But  I,  I  am  first  m  the  battle, 
Said  our  Ladv  of  the  Snows. 


A  nation  spoke  to  a  nation, 

A  Queen  sent  word  to  a  throne  : 
Daughter  am  I  in  my  mother's  house; 

But  mistress  in  my  owji. 
The  gates  are  mine  to  open 

As  the  gates  are  mine  to  close, 
And  I  abide  in  my  mother's  house, 

Said  our  Lady  of  the  Snows, 


42SS7 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


■.•  V 


A     000  671  272     3 


T. 


:^A  --^  ^m^ 


